Drifting On A Lonely Sea I Hands To Heaven
by TracyJean
Summary: Harm's announcement that he's being deployed days before Mac's wedding sets off a chain of events which will change four lives
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTES – The title of the series is a line from Whitney Houston's song 'All At Once', off her debut album. The title of this chapter is from the song 'Hands To Heaven', performed by Breathe.

-----

WEDNESDAY MORNING  
23 MAY 2001  
JAG HEADQUARTERS

Mac stared down at the stack of papers in front of her on her desk, trying to concentrate. She was taking the next two days off in preparation for her wedding and she wanted to get rid of the backlog of paperwork on her desk. It wouldn't be fair to dump it all on someone else, no matter what the circumstances. It wasn't everyone else's fault that Mac found it harder and harder to focus on work the closer it got to her wedding day.

Most would have assumed that Mac's occasional inability to concentrate on work stemmed from her wedding, that she was the typical giddy bride looking forward to her wedding day with an excitement that could not be contained. It frustrated Mac that nothing could be further from the truth. She wanted to be giddy. She wanted to be counting the hours and minutes left until she would become Mrs. Mic Brumby. She wanted to look forward to her wedding day with the anticipation born long ago in a little girl's dreams of her fairytale wedding. But she couldn't, no matter how hard she tried.

Unconsciously, she rubbed a finger over her lips and remembered how it had felt. It had just been a kiss, one of a multitude she'd received in her life. And it hadn't been the first time that he'd kissed her. She'd known what it felt like, his mouth moving tenderly over hers, had known how he tasted. So why did one stolen moment on a cool May night haunt her so much?

She didn't even have to close her eyes to see clearly in her mind how it had started out as tender goodbye kiss and grown in intensity until she was positive the only thing holding her upright was his hand pressed against her back, holding her firmly against him. She'd tried to back away. Oh, how she'd tried. But she'd never expected him to finally let go, to express in his actions everything that she'd ever wanted from him but had given up on hoping for. That was why, when he'd pulled her back to him, she hadn't resisted. At least, that was what she tried to tell herself.

Mac closed her eyes for a moment, remembering. She could still feel the tingling sensation as his lips touched hers. Her back felt warm where his hand had pressed against it. If they hadn't both been so aware of the house full of guests and their significant others, just on the other side of the door. . . .She should put it out of her mind. She had to put it out of her mind. She knew that in her head. Her heart had just refused to listen.

At a time when she should be running as fast as she could in the opposite direction, she'd oddly found herself closer to Harm than they'd been since he'd left JAG to return to active flight status. They spent more time together, laughed together, generally enjoyed each other's company. And they touched. A hand on an arm. A pat on the shoulder. Fingers clasped together. Mac knew they were playing with fire. They both did. That was evident every time they looked into each other's eyes. But Mac kept telling herself that what little contact they allowed themselves was better than none at all. And maybe if she told herself that enough times, she would find herself believing it.

Her eyes snapped open at the sound of a knock on her partially closed door. Her gaze met Harm's and they stared at each other for a long moment, the hint of a smile playing on their lips. Finally, Mac broke the silence and asked, "What can I do for you?"

"I. . . .something's come up," he said, stepping in her office, resisting the urge to push the door closed behind him. But being with Mac behind closed doors was too great a temptation and she'd made her choice. He had to accept that. "I needed to talk to you about it."

"Take a seat," she suggested, gesturing to the chair in front of her desk. Harm looked at the chair for a moment, and then shook his head.

"On second thought," he said, "why don't we take a break? We've both been buried under paperwork all day. It's a nice day out today. Why don't we take a walk?"

"I don't know," she hesitated, shaking her head. "I've got a lot to get done before I go on leave ..." Her voice trailed off as she noted to look in his eyes. Ever since that night, she'd found herself paying more attention to his eyes, learning to read what he was thinking. Right now, what she was seeing was a look that she hadn't seen in a couple of years... since he'd shown up at her apartment to tell her that he was returning to active flight status. She had the feeling deep in the pit of her stomach that whatever he was about to say, she didn't really want to hear it. Taking a deep breath, she nodded agreement. "Let me get my cover."

"Thank you," he said. Mac's hand froze on her desk drawer at his tone and she studied him for a long moment. She couldn't explain it, but she sensed from him that this was of vital importance – to both of them.

-----

Once they were outside the building, slowly walking the grounds, Harm found himself hesitating. Honestly, he was a bit relieved about his news, but he was concerned about Mac's reaction. He wasn't sure why. She was going to marry another man in three days. Wouldn't it be more comfortable for her if he wasn't there, a reminder of the turmoil in her heart? But Mac seemed to be concerned about his reactions to what was happening in her life. She'd obviously been worried about his reaction when she'd told him a few weeks earlier that he wouldn't be able to sit at the head table at the wedding reception. Even already knowing that he was going to be there, she'd asked him specifically a few hours before the engagement party if she would see him there.

Harm thought that he'd finally figured out the tangled feelings between them, but her concern made it even harder, a constant reminder of what he could never have. There were times when he wished that he'd remained oblivious. Why had he finally opened up to her on the Admiral's porch? Why couldn't he have backed away, as he'd done on the ferry? Maybe then it would be easier to pretend that he was happy as the person he cared about most in the world made a life with another man.

He glanced at Mac and found her looking at him expectantly, waiting patiently for him to reveal his news. It had been his idea to come out here. A part of him considered forgetting about the whole thing and just taking off for the _Patrick Henry_, letting the chips fall where they may. But then he remembered the hurt look on his face when she'd found out he'd had his eyes fixed without telling her. He'd promised himself that he would never do that to her again. But once again, the rules of engagement had changed.

"So how was your presentation?" he asked, breaking the silence, deciding to go with small talk while he figured out how to break his news.

"It went fine," she replied, recognizing the delaying tactic, but going along with it. She was trying to learn not to push him so hard. Hell, her pushing had been what had put them in this situation to begin with. First, she'd pushed too hard in Sydney and ended up in another man's arms. Then, she'd pushed him at the engagement party, but instead of running away as he had in Sydney, he'd pushed back this time and look what it had gotten them. Three days before her wedding and she couldn't convince herself to be the ecstatic bride.

_"You do love your husband, don't you?" _

_"I don't know." _

Mac shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts which had been plaguing her since the party and which had found a focus as she'd researched her presentation on the Somers mutiny of 1842. How had she managed to relate the court-martial of her ancestor to her ambivalence about Mic? She sighed. The Somers mutiny was hardly a safe topic for conversation. Then again, was there any such thing between them anymore?

"Mac?" Harm asked, watching her with concern. "Are you okay?"

"There's just a lot going on," she replied. It was the truth, as far as that went.

Harm came to a stop and turned to her. Mac glanced around them. They were at a far corner of the grounds surrounding JAG headquarters, away from the usual traffic of people coming and going. That nagging voice inside Mac's head suggested that this wasn't a good idea, but she squashed it. Harm was her best friend. She owed it to him to listen to what he had to say.

"As I'm sure you're aware," he began, "I have to qualify every year to keep my flight status current. My year is up at the end of the month and I've done everything except for the carrier landing portion of my quals." He watched as she thought about what he was saying, making the connections in her mind.

"You're going to be deployed sometime in the next week to carrier," she concluded.

"I report to the _Patrick Henry_ tomorrow," he told her, continuing quickly before she could protest. "I'm driving up to Norfolk tonight and I'll take a helo from there in the morning. Just in case something happens and things take longer than planned, it's better to go now, than wait until after the holiday Monday when there will only be three days left in the month. Anyway, as of next week, I'm acting chief of staff and need to be here at JAG."

"I see," she replied carefully, having the sinking feeling she knew where this was going. "And when will you be back?"

"I'm not sure," he replied, shrugging. This was the part that he was dreading telling her. "The plan is sometime Saturday, but I'm not sure exactly when. Could even be Sunday."

"Sunday," she repeated, trying – and not entirely succeeding - to stifle her dismay. "My wedding's on Saturday and there's the rehearsal dinner on Friday."

"I know," he said softly. If he was aware of nothing else, it was that her wedding to another man was on Saturday. "I'm up against a deadline here. If I delay the orders until after the wedding, then I run the risk of running out of time to complete my quals. Sure, I can probably complete them in a couple of days, maybe three, but things can happen that can drag that out."

"And if you don't complete your quals, then your flight status is threatened," she realized. She knew how much his flight status meant to him, even if he was no longer a part of an active duty squadron. "I understand, but. . . ."

"Mac," he said, picking up her right hand and squeezing it gently. "I'm sorry."

"You said the plan is to come back on Saturday?" she asked, clinging to that thought.

"That's the idea," he replied, hoping that she wasn't going where he thought she was about to with this. It would be easier if he couldn't make it back. "I'd like to salvage something of the holiday weekend before my workload is doubled for the next couple of weeks."

"I suppose you have plans with Renee," she said, trying to bury the flicker of jealousy she felt. She was with Mic. She couldn't expect him to spend his time pining for her, despite coming to terms with the feelings between them. It wasn't fair. . . .to any of them.

"Not really," he admitted. Renee had pushed, but even before he'd known about his orders for the _Patrick Henry_, he'd made the excuse that he wanted to get a jump start on some of the extra work that he would be stuck with. Of course, his desire to be alone had more to do with regrets over the direction of his life than a burning desire to work through the holiday weekend. He knew that he wasn't going to be very good company this weekend and he wasn't really in the mood to tolerate Renee's attempts to distract him.

She stared at her hand in his, her gaze focused on his thumb idly tracing circles on her palm. "Harm, I need you ..." she began, realizing how that sounded. She quickly added, a bit flustered, "I want you to be there for me. With Uncle Matt in Leavenworth, Chloe's going to be my only family there. I've got friends, but you mean... more to me than just about anyone. That's why I'd invited you to the rehearsal dinner even though you're not in the wedding party. If nothing else, I need you to be at the wedding."

"Why, Mac?" he questioned her. He still held her hand and she could feel the heat where his thumb gently rubbed her slowly spreading up her arm and through her. Her breath caught as she tried to think of a reply.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice hesitant. "I just know that I need you there. I need to know that you are there and are... happy for me."

"If this is what you want," he reminded her, "then I'm happy for you." Anyone who didn't know him very well might not have caught the slight tremor in his voice, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Mac. But Mac, learning to look for the little clues to what he was thinking, noticed it, perhaps because it reflected the doubts in her own heart.

"Harm," she said with a hint of pleading, "I know that I'm asking a lot, and I can't explain why this is so important for me. Maybe it's that I think this will provide some closure. But I do know that I need to know that you will be there for me."

Harm tilted her head up with a finger, his gaze meeting hers and he allowed himself just a moment to become lost in the dark depths of her eyes. In that moment, he remembered why he would do anything for her. "I will," he said softly. "I promise."

Mac licked her suddenly dry lips. He would come home in time for the wedding. He wouldn't let anything stand in his way. Harm always kept his promises.

_"Don't make a promise you can't keep." _

_"I haven't yet." _

Well, he'd never broken a promise to her yet. It would be another three years before he would be forced to break that one. Until then, she would hold onto the knowledge that Harm's word was worth more than the most precious metal. "Thank you," she whispered, unconsciously leaning forward slightly as she lost herself in the turmoil evident in his eyes. She knew this would hurt him, more than he would probably ever admit, even to her. But he would still come simply because she'd asked him to. She didn't deserve for him to be so kind and understanding. She closed her eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to form.

She felt his free hand brush her cheek, meant to be a gesture of comfort. But she could feel so much more in his touch. Opening her eyes, she found that they'd somehow moved even closer together. It would be so easy. All she had to do would be to stretch up just a little bit and she could satisfy the hunger she'd been trying so hard to forget since the party.

That night, things had gotten away from her as a simple goodbye kiss had turned into so much more. This time, Mac was fully aware of what she was doing and what this meant as she closed the remaining distance between them and stood up on tip toe to press her lips against his.

She moaned against his open mouth when she felt his hand go to her back, welcoming the return of the heat she remembered from that night. Her hand slid up his arm and over his shoulder board to press against the back of his neck, her fingers moving over him in a soft massage. They were outside, where anyone might walk by, but neither had the strength or the will to put out the fire threatening to engulf them.

Harm started to pull away first, but he'd been haunted as much as she'd been the last couple of weeks and he found that he couldn't. He tugged at her lower lip, lightly running his tongue along the soft flesh, before losing himself again and deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping the welcoming depths of her mouth. She swayed slightly against him as she met him with equal fervor, her tongue wrestling with his, and he tightened his hold on her.

Mac was finally the one who broke away first, taking a step back as she felt something hard pressing against her stomach. This was spinning too far out of their control. Harm turned his back to her, his breathing ragged, trying to regain some small measure of control. Mac reached out and let her fingers brush against his arm before dropping her hand. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," Harm replied just as softly, turning his head to glance back at her. "Never be sorry."

Mac wasn't sure she had the right to ask for more, but she did anyway. She couldn't help herself, anymore than she could have stopped herself from falling into his arms again, even when they both knew they shouldn't. "Stop by and see me before you go?" she requested.

Harm turned his head away again and nodded. "I will," he vowed.

Mac took a deep breath and forced herself to walk away, back to the pile of work waiting for her on her desk. But the voice was back in her head, taunting her.

_You do love your husband, don't you? ... You do love your husband, don't you? ... You do love your husband, don't you?_

"What does love have to do with anything?" she retorted aloud, drawing a curious glance from a passing petty officer, who snapped off a salute as soon as she caught sight of the silver oak clusters on Mac's collar. Mac automatically returned the salute, but she couldn't get the question out of her mind. She just wished that she could satisfy herself with the answer.

-----

A FEW HOURS LATER

Oddly enough, Mac found that she was better able to concentrate after her work after her meeting with Harm. With a smile on her face, she signed off on another report and tossed it on top of the rapidly growing pile of completed work.

"Thinking about our wedding, I hope," Mic said from the door. Mac looked up from the file she'd just picked up, forcing the smile to remain on her face.

"Mic," she said brightly. If her voice a little too bright, she was the only one who realized it. Mic rarely noticed the subtle clues – the look in her eyes, the slight change in her voice – that signaled a change in mood. Even when she was visibly upset at him, he tended more often than not to ignore the reason behind the mood, opting to try to charm her out of her bad mood rather than dealing with what had caused it in the first place. But it never resolved any of the problems between them. More and more, Mac was beginning to realize that. But it wasn't that simple. Not after all this time.

Harm would have noticed, the voice in her head reminded her. Mac shook her head and forced her attention back to her fiancé. "What can I do for you, Mic?" she asked as she opened the folder in front of her.

"Just wanted to see if you wanted to take off a bit early and spend some time with me, luv," he said cheerfully.

"Mic," she protested, managing for the most part to keep the frustration out of her voice, "I have a lot of work to finish. Today's my last day before the wedding and I want to get as much of this done as possible."

"Rabb's filling in as chief of staff while you're gone, right?" he countered. "I'm sure he would understand if you left it for him, with the wedding to think about and all that."

Mac managed to bite back a stinging retort. Everything was going to be hard enough for Harm as it was in the coming days and weeks. She wasn't about to make things worse by unnecessarily dumping her work in his lap so she could play hooky with her persistent fiancé, even if Harm was going to be around to handle the extra load. Which he wasn't, she reminded herself.

Harm chose that moment to poke his head in Mac's office. "Sorry, am I interrupting anything?" he asked automatically, although sorry was about as far away from what he felt as one could get. But he would make nice even if it killed him. He wasn't about to lose Mac's friendship, no matter to whom she was married. And if Mic had a problem with his and Mac's friendship, Harm was determined that was going to be Mic's problem – not his and certainly not Mac's if he could help it. Mac had promised that she wasn't going to lose him and Harm was holding onto that with everything in him.

Mic opened his mouth to speak, to give Harm the brush off, but Mac jumped in before he could start anything. "Of course not," Mac replied smoothly. "Are you taking off already?"

"The Admiral gave me the time to go home and pack since I'm driving to Norfolk," Harm replied, focusing his attention on her. Unfortunately, Mic did notice that – he tried to notice everything when he saw Harm and Mac together – and decided to interrupt.

"Heading off on a case, mate?" Mic asked in a too pleasant voice. Maybe it would keep Harm away long enough to miss the wedding. Mic could have cared less if Harm was there to wish them well, even if it meant forgoing the opportunity to show off his hard-won bride. Although he'd professed to Renee that he wasn't concerned, he wouldn't rest easy on that score until the wedding ring was firmly on Mac's finger and she was truly and forever his. He couldn't banish the occasional vision he had of Harm standing up in the middle of the ceremony and declaring his undying love for Mac. In this case, when it came down to a choice between showing off his wife to Harm and resting easy because Harm was absent, he'd take the resting easy. He'd have the rest of their lives to show off his wife and to remind Harm that Mac was forever his.

"My annual carrier quals," he replied, his voice just as pleasant. "I'm taking a helo to the _Patrick Henry_ in the morning from there."

"I asked Harm to stop by before he left," Mac added. "I just wanted to make sure that there is nothing pending that I need to look at this afternoon." Her eyes were on Harm as she said it and he nodded slightly, acknowledging the silent plea to back her up.

"I managed to clear my desk," Harm said, bolstering her story. Like her, he'd returned to his office with a renewed determination to bury himself in work. He'd even managed to make a dent in the usual backlog of reports on his desk, reports he'd thought to put off until Mac was gone on her honeymoon, figuring that he'd need the extra distraction in the ongoing effort to forget.

"Have a safe trip and good luck on your quals," she said, smiling at him. She focused completely on Harm and managed to forget for just a moment that they weren't alone in the room. "I'll see you on Saturday."

She had managed to forget until Mic reminded her. "You'll be back in time for the wedding?" he asked, his displeasure thinly veiled. Mac closed her eyes briefly against the sudden headache threatening to overwhelm her.

"I'll be back Saturday morning," Harm confirmed, taking a small amount of pleasure in bursting Mic's hope that he wouldn't be at the wedding. "I promised Mac that I'd be there. Well, I need to get going. Mac, I'll see you Saturday."

Mac got up and walked around to the door, stepping out of the office with Harm without even a glance in Mic's direction. "I'll see you," she said, stepping close enough to him that she was able to brush her hand against his without it being glaringly obvious to everyone in the bullpen. "And thank you again."

Harm lowered his voice so that only she would hear. "I'd do anything for you, Mac," he reminded her. He then smiled and said aloud, "Tell Chloe I said 'hi' when she arrives and I'll see you both at the wedding."

"I will," Mac promised, walking with him towards the elevator. She'd all but forgotten Mic's presence in her office. "I know she's looking forward to seeing you."

"Mac ..." Harm began, but he stopped, shaking his head. He stopped in front of the elevator doors and turned to face her. "I just want you to call me if you need anything, even if it's just someone to talk to. I'm sure the next few days are going to be a bit crazy."

"Thank you," she said softly. "For everything. Goodbye, Harm."

"Goodbye, Mac," he replied just as softly, lifting his hand to brush against hers as the elevator doors opened before them. There was no one stepping off the elevator, no one else waiting to get on, so Harm let his hand linger over hers just a little longer than was really necessary before dropping it back to his side.

Mac stood there until Harm stepped onto the elevator and the doors closed between them. With a sad sigh, she returned to her office, where Mic was still waiting for her. She hesitated, and then closed the door behind her, just in case.

He'd not been happy that she'd walked out of the office with Harm, barely giving him a second thought. By the time she'd returned, he was close to fuming. "Rabb get off okay?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm evident in his tone.

"Mic, I really do have a lot of work to get done before my leave," she protested, hoping he would drop the subject and just leave her in peace. "Do you think we can talk later?"

Mic wasn't about to let the subject of Harm slide. "Why did he promise to be back in time for the wedding?" he mused.

"He wasn't sure if he would be able to get back," she replied calmly, promising herself that she wasn't going to argue about this, no matter how much Mic pushed. "I asked him to promise that he would be here for the wedding."

"Why?"

"Why not?" Mac countered with a sigh. Calm, she reminded herself. "My uncle's in Leavenworth, Chloe's the only family I've got. The next closest thing I have to family is my friends at JAG. Harm's been there for me through a lot and it's natural that I would want him at my wedding."

"I'm your family now," Mic stressed. He thought by allowing them to say their goodbyes at the party that Harm would be firmly in her past and she would focus completely on him. If anything, she'd been increasingly distant since the party. He just had to remind her that he was the one whom loved her and whom she would be marrying in three days.

"Mic, my friends are very important to me and I want them to be at my wedding," she retorted. "All of them and that is non-negotiable. Besides, I thought you and Renee were friends and I hear that she's really looking forward to the wedding." Harm hadn't said so in so many words, but Mac suspected that Renee's desire to be at the wedding had more to do with making sure her perceived competition was out of the way than wishing Mac and Mic the best. Maybe she and Mic should get together, she thought. Renee and Mic certainly had a lot in common, including a distrust of the relationship between their significant others. Of course, that distrust come without knowing what had transpired within the last few weeks. If they knew that... Mac shook her head, trying to banish the thoughts from her mind, wondering where that wild idea had come from.

At Mic's questioning glance, she managed a smile. "Just thinking about the wedding," she told him, trying to sound like the joyous bride-to-be. It was the truth, in a way, and it certainly did the job in distracting Mic, she told herself, judging from the wide smile now on his face. "Now, I really do need to get back to work. I've got to get finished with all this and then Chloe and her father are arriving late this afternoon."

"Fine," Mic said, seemingly satisfied that he'd managed to divert her thoughts from Harm to their wedding. As she opened the door, Mic came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck. Momentarily startled, Mac reminded herself to relax as she extricated herself from his arms.

"We're in the office, remember?" she pointed out quietly. She took his hand and squeezed, hoping that he was reassured that she wasn't rejecting him.

"Sorry, luv," Mic apologized. "I suppose I can wait until later and, of course, I'll have you to myself for two weeks on our honeymoon."

"Mic," she said with a sigh, shaking her head. It made her a little uncomfortable when he was overly affectionate in public, but he didn't notice, mistaking her discomfort for anticipation of when they would be alone together.

"Later, luv," Mic said, stepping out of her office. Mac was about to go back to her desk when he added, "Walk me to the elevator?" He managed to make it sound like a pleasant request, but inside Mic was bothered. She'd walked Rabb to the elevator without a second thought, but he had to remind her to extend the same courtesy to him. Too bad she wouldn't take off the rest of the day with him. Then he could work on that reminder of his place in her life.

Mac stopped and nodded, managing another smile as she gestured him to go ahead of her. As Mac walked slightly behind him, she ran her fingers along the collar of her uniform where his lips had moved over her, wishing that she felt the same tingling sensation still present on her lips from Harm's kiss earlier.

-----

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

HARM'S APARTMENT

Harm packed automatically – blindly tossing items in his overnight bag. He's been on so many trips that he knew what he needed to pack without even thinking about it. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't just keep a bag packed and ready to go at all times. You would have thought that he would have learned that, if nothing else, after sixteen years as a naval officer and four years at Annapolis.

_"Do you have anything to pick up?"  
_

_"I'm a Marine, Harm. First to go. We always keep a packed bag in the car." _

_  
"I guess that's the difference between sailors and Marines. I keep golf clubs in my car." _

He shook his head, trying to banish the memory. Memories. They'd become the bane of his existence the last few weeks, ever since that damned engagement party. It was like a floodgate had been opened – everywhere he turned, he was haunted by her face, by the way things used to be between them, by what would now never be. In three days, she would become Mrs. Mic Brumby and apparently nothing was going to stop that now. Not even what had happened between them that night - what was continuing to happen between them - was apparently enough to cause Mac to turn her back on the arrogant Australian.

He should have run in the other direction after that kiss on the Admiral's porch. By her words as they'd broke apart, it seemed that she'd clearly meant it as some sort of goodbye, a farewell to what might have been. She'd even tried to pull away at first, before he'd pulled her back and they'd both lost themselves for an all-too-brief moment in the hint of what could have been. But as they'd stood side by side as Harriet's promotion was announced, their hands brushing, he'd realized that there was no way he could run from this, not anymore.

As he'd told her, the thing he wanted most was to never lose her, even if the only way he could have her now was only as a friend. And as he'd walked into JAG that Monday morning after the party, that was precisely what he'd feared would happen. He'd been afraid that she would be the one to run – away from him and from the feelings swirling between them which had finally surfaced. He'd nearly frozen in place as he'd gone to the kitchen for his morning cup of coffee, finding her already in the kitchen, emptying a packet of sugar into her mug. He'd watched her for a moment, debating whether to go in there and face head on whatever might happen or turn and head for his office until the coast was clear and he was safe from everything that he was afraid of.

The decision ended up being taken out of his hands when she'd turned around, coffee in hand, and had seen him standing in the doorway. Then the most amazing thing had happened. She'd smiled at him and said 'Good morning', just like it was any other morning. Smiling and greeting her in return, he'd entered the kitchen and set about preparing his own beverage. As he'd turned back to his mug after replacing the carafe in the coffee maker, his arm had accidentally brushed against hers. He didn't remember her being that close to him when he'd poured his coffee. Had she been closer than he'd thought she was? Or had she moved closer to him, driven by the same need to be near him that he was trying to quash in himself?

From there, the ice had been broken. Whenever they ended up together, they seemed to always end up touching. Maybe it was just his hand on her arm, wanting to point something out to her. Or her arm brushing against his, lingering just a little bit longer than necessary as she handed him a piece of paper in the weekly staff meeting. Or a congratulatory pat on the shoulder after a hard-fought win in court. But for the diamond glaring brightly from her left hand, soon to be joined by a band of gold, it was as if time had finally been turned back – before his return to flying, before Sydney, before Mic, before Renee, before all the other little things that had conspired to tear them apart.

But their kiss in the courtyard today – that had come out of nowhere. Or maybe it had been inevitable, the only logical result of their renewed closeness, both physical and emotional. Harm couldn't decide which it was. Maybe they should have run from each other. If it could happen once – as it had on the Admiral's porch – then surely it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that it could happen again. But they couldn't have predicted how that simple kiss could spin so quickly out of control, could they? How were they to know that it would only be the uniforms they wore and the fact that they were in a public setting that would serve to prevent them from giving themselves up to the desire and need which was flaring up between them.

It went against everything he believed in, the honor which had been instilled in him as an officer and a gentleman. But there were some things that even the most stringent military discipline couldn't control or contain and, God help them both, this appeared to be one of them. Sometimes he wished that what she'd once accused him of had been true, that he looked at her and saw Diane. Then it would be easier to convince himself that he shouldn't want her, shouldn't desire her, that his emotions only stemmed from her resemblance to his lost love and that it wasn't enough to risk everything over and not fair to any of them.

"Hey, Sailor," Renee said, wrapping her arms around him from behind. Harm tensed slightly, having not even heard her come in. "I wasn't expecting you to be home so early. I thought I'd be here waiting for you... " Harm stepped to the side, out of her arms, and Renee got a good look at the open travel bag on his bed. "Where are you going?"

"Remember, I told you my carrier quals were coming up," he reminded her. "I just got my orders this morning. I report to the _Patrick Henry_ tomorrow morning. I'm catching a helo out of Norfolk."

"Well, can't you delay?" she asked, a slight pout on her face, waving her hand as if dismissing his orders. "I mean, Mac's wedding is Saturday." Truth be told, Renee was desperate for the two of them to attend the wedding. She wanted Harm to watch as Mac pledged her life and love to another man and hoped that the finality of that action would finally push Harm where she wanted him to go – completely and absolutely hers. Once Mac was forever out of his reach, then surely it would be easier to convince him to give her the miracle she wanted.

Harm sighed inwardly. He knew why she'd brought the wedding up. She'd certainly been dropping enough hints over the last few months. Hell, she'd even admitted that she was counting the days until the wedding, right after she'd pressed him about his feelings for Mac and he'd sidestepped the issue. But he couldn't bring himself to care right now. Maybe it was harsh, considering that he'd been involved with her for a year and a half, but his heart was firmly in the grasp of one Sarah Mackenzie and after the party, he could not run from that any more. "Renee, I'll be back in time for the wedding," he said with a patience that he didn't really feel. "I spoke to Mac earlier and she pointed out the same thing and I promised to be back in time."

"Oh," Renee said, managing to mask her irritation. The woman was getting married in three days, but she was the one who managed to extract a promise from Harm to return in time for the wedding. Renee had the feeling deep down that if she'd asked him to return to escort her to the wedding, he would have come up with at least a dozen reasons why he wouldn't make it back in time. Time to change the topic and remind him that she was the one in his life. "So what do you want to do this afternoon? I managed to clear my schedule so that I could surprise you when you got off work but it's still a little early for the dinner reservations that I made for us, so I'm flexible." She wrapped her arms around him again and let her hands roam freely, giving him a very good idea of what she wanted to do.

Harm extricated himself from her embrace, momentarily haunted by another woman, another embrace – one that he hadn't wanted to let go of. He could almost see the electricity sparking when Mac touched him. With Renee, although it felt pleasant enough, he didn't have the sense that he'd starve if he never felt her touch again. He zipped up his bag and carried it over to the door. "Renee, I'm leaving on a helo first thing in the morning from a base three hours away," he pointed out. He dropped the bag on the floor under the coat rack and turned to face her, not really surprised that the pout was still present on her face. It was an emotion that she was very good at and liked to trot out every time his job took him away from her. "I'm driving down to Norfolk tonight. In fact, I was planning to leave as soon as I called you to let you know what was going on."

Of course, he just had to tell Mac that he was leaving before he told her. Just three more days, she reminded herself. In seventy-two hours, Sarah Mackenzie would be Sarah Brumby and out of their lives – and out of their relationship – forever. "Do you have to?" she pouted, then snapped her fingers and smiled as an idea came to her. It would require some more rearranging of her schedule, but this was too important. "Why don't I give Claude a call and push back tomorrow's schedule for a few hours? Then I can accompany you to Norfolk and give you a proper goodbye before you go."

"No, Renee," he said, picking up a stack of mail off the bookcase and idly flipping through it, not that he hadn't already done so when he'd gotten home. He just wasn't in the mood for Renee's pleading. "Quals are very stressful. If I don't do well, then I can lose my flight status. I'm driving up to Norfolk tonight so I can get a good night's sleep and be well rested for my quals, which would be the last thing that would happen if you came with me."

"Harm, she's getting married in three days," Renee pointed out, fingering the string of pearls around her neck. Wonderful. How was she supposed to make him forget if he kept pushing her away? Well, she wasn't a woman who would tolerate being pushed away.

He turned around and stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown two heads, dropping the stack of mail back on the bookcase. "Since when were we talking about Mac?" he demanded. "I was talking about my carrier-landing quals." Right, and you're in such a foul mood because you're worried about catching the three wire, he chided himself.

"Since she's always between us," Renee countered, "even when she's not here. Tell me, if she hadn't asked you to make a point of it, would you even care if you made it back in time for her wedding?"

"Of course," he said, using the same line he'd often used on himself in the last few months as he'd watched her make wedding plans with Brumby. Not that he thought it would convince Renee any more than he'd managed to convince himself with it. "Mac has been a close friend for nearly five years."

"And more?" she mused. She'd often wondered, but both she and Mic had tried to convince themselves that it didn't matter. All that should have mattered was that he had Mac and she had Harm. But the more distant he became as the wedding drew closer, the more she needed to know.

"I am not going there with you," he said firmly, barely able to keep the anger out of his voice, picking up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. She noted that, as before, he hadn't really denied her assertion. "As you said, Mac is getting married in three days. And that's the end of it."

Studying him with his determined expression and hand on the door knob, Renee reluctantly convinced herself to let it drop for now. At least he would be in Norfolk, then on a carrier in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, and Mac would be here in Washington, distracted by all those pesky last-minute wedding details. She pressed against his side, intending to give him a deep, passionate goodbye kiss, but he turned to open the door and she only managed to press her lips against the corner of his mouth. "You'll call me when you get back," she said hopefully. "Or if you are running behind, you could get ready for the wedding then come by to pick me up." She couldn't help throwing in one more reminder of the door that was about to close to him.

He nodded as they stepped out of the apartment and he closed the door behind him, locking it. "I'll call," he agreed, trying not to think about escorting her to the wedding that was threatening to rip his heart to shreds.

"Good," she said, turning her to him as they stood in the hall and this time managing to catch him off-guard enough to give him a kiss, even if it wasn't quite the kind of kiss she'd wanted to give. "Just remember that I'm waiting for you."

As he climbed into his car, Harm tossed his bag on the seat beside him with a sigh. Renee was his girlfriend, but when she'd just kissed him, he hadn't felt anything. He'd been automatic, rote in his response. He couldn't make himself feel anything. Truth be told, he'd been that way ever since the party, when he'd held in his arms the one woman whose kisses would always haunt him.

-----

Mac was distracted as she walked across the street to her building. What was happening? She'd spent the better part of a year trying to convince herself that she was in love with one Mic Brumby, but all that had fallen apart with one simple kiss. Now, as she was about to marry one man, she craved the touch and kisses of another as much as she craved the air that she breathed.

"Hey, Mac!" a voice called out from in front of her. Mac looked up from where she was studying the cracks in the sidewalk in front of her to see her sister running towards her. She held her arms out and gathered Chloe into her embrace.

"It's so good to see you," she said. Oddly, for the first time in a long time, Mac felt relaxed. She took a step back and studied Chloe. "You've grown since the last time I saw you."

"Well, I'm grown up now," Chloe proclaimed, watching Mac. She was worried about her, had been ever since Mac had told her at Christmas that she'd agreed to marry Mic. Now that she could see Mac in person, she was even more concerned. Three days before her wedding and the last image that Mac projected was that of a happy bride-to-be.

Mac laughed. At least some things were constant. Chloe was still Chloe. "You just turned fourteen a few days ago," she pointed out.

"Yeah, fourteen going on forty," another voice interjected. Chloe sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Dad!"

"Hello again, Kyle," Mac said warmly, holding out her hand to him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well," he replied as he shook her hand. "Congratulations on your wedding."

Chloe noticed the brief cloud that passed over Mac's face at the mention of the wedding, but then it was gone and Mac was smiling again. "Thank you," she replied.

"Look, we need to go get checked into our hotel," Kyle said. "But Chloe insisted we had to stop by and let you know that we made it here."

"I asked Dad if I could stay with you while he goes get us checked in," Chloe interrupted excitedly. "Since we haven't seen each other in a while, I thought we could take some time to get caught up, just us women."

"If it's okay with you, of course," Kyle said, trying to be the voice of reason.

Mac's looked at her sister and her heart melted. She could use the company – and maybe Chloe could help distract her from the turmoil haunting her night and day. "It's fine, Kyle," Mac assured him. "I'd love to have Chloe to myself for a few hours."

"Great!" Chloe exclaimed. "See you later, Dad!"

Kyle laughed as he kissed his daughter's forehead. "Well, I guess she's all yours then, Mac," he acquiesced. "Just give me a call if she gets to be too much. Otherwise, I'll pick her up in a few hours for dinner." He winked, causing Mac to laugh and Chloe to roll her eyes again.

"Bye, Kyle," Mac said. "We'll see you later."

"Bye, Dad," Chloe echoed. They both watched as Kyle walked down the street back to where he'd parked their rental car. Once he'd driven off, Mac put her arm over Chloe's shoulder and led her into her building.

"You don't know how glad I am to see you," Mac said.

"So how's Harm?" Chloe asked, managing to sound completely innocent. Bingo, she thought as she noted the pained look in Mac's eyes at the mention of his name.

It took Mac a moment to shake the memory of their walk from her mind and to attempt a convincing answer. "Harm's fine," she replied, glancing down at her engagement ring. She shook her head. "He's leaving tonight for Norfolk. He has to complete his annual carrier-landing qualifications by the end of the month."

"You mean he's not going to be here for the wedding?" Chloe asked, raising her voice as Mac unlocked her apartment door. A passing neighbor looked at them oddly and Mac ushered Chloe into the apartment, firmly closing the door behind them. "I can't believe this." Chloe was upset. She'd held onto her dreams of someday being the flower girl at Harm and Mac's wedding. Mac's upcoming wedding to Mic was just a minor stumbling block to that. She'd had romantic visions of Harm sweeping in and declaring his undying love for Mac, carrying her away from what would be the biggest mistake of her life. How could he do that if he wasn't even going to be there?

"Chloe, Harm's going to be at the wedding," Mac assured her, puzzled by Chloe's reaction. Sure, Chloe was very fond of Harm, but you'd think Harm was the one she was marrying from the way she was acting. "I spoke to him earlier. He promised to be back in time for the wedding."

Chloe couldn't help her sigh of relief. "Good," she said, relieved. "Then it's not too late."

"Too late for what?" Mac asked, although she had a feeling that she already knew the answer to that question. She really shouldn't be surprised that Chloe was managing to give voice the doubts in her own heart. Chloe had always been one to speak her mind and had always been expressing hope that Harm and Mac would eventually get together. She needed to nip this in the bud. She had enough on her mind without her sister adding to the turmoil. Chloe was supposed to help make her feel better, not doubt herself even more. "Chloe, I. . . ."

"Why are you marrying him?" Chloe asked, abruptly changing the subject from Harm to Mac's intended husband.

"What?" Mac turned around and stared at her sister incredulously, startled by the sudden redirection of their conversation.

"Why are you marrying Mic Brumby?" Chloe clarified. "What is it about him that is making you choose to spend the rest of your life with this man?"

"Well," Mac began slowly, trying to gather her thoughts, "he's a good man. He makes me laugh. He gave up a lot to be with me here – his career in the Navy, his home in Australia. And most importantly, he's offering me the life I've always wanted – a home, a family eventually."

Chloe wanted to strangle her sister. How could such an intelligent woman be so completely dense when it came to her personal life? She sighed heavily. Sometimes she felt like she was the older one. "What about love?" she pressed.

_  
What does love have to do with anything? _

Yeah, what does it have to do with anything, she asked herself. She'd been in love – and her affections had been thrown back in her face with talk of not being able to let go and waiting, possibly for eternity. When Mac didn't answer immediately, Chloe repeated the question. Mac shook her head, trying to clear it. "Chloe, it's a lot more complicated than that," she tried to explain, but Chloe waved her off.

"The only complication I see here is that you love Harm," Chloe countered, "he loves you and – for some God-unknown reason that I have been trying to figure out ever since you first told me you had agreed to wear Mic's ring – you're about to throw your life away on marriage to a man whom you definitely do not love."

"I never said that," Mac protested, but it sounded weak, even to her own ears.

"And you never said that you do love him either," Chloe pointed out. "Come on, Mac. It's not that hard, if you really do love him. It's just three little words. Say them."

"I ..." Mac began, the rest of the words sticking in her throat. Chloe wanted to jump up and down in triumph, but stopped at the look of utter despair on Mac's face.

Chloe walked across the room to Mac and clasped her hands. "Mac," she said in a very serious and grown-up tone, "you're my sister and I love you. So please listen to me when I say that I'm worried about you. I'm scared that you're about to make a huge mistake. You love one man, but you're about to marry another. You're settling for some reason that I don't think even you understand. Please, think about this some more before you end up ruining three lives."

"Chloe, I've made my decision," Mac said, sounding uncertain, as if trying to convince herself as much as Chloe. "Harm has agreed to live with it. So should you. Please, I want you to be happy for me."

"Did it ever occur to you that Harm's accepting your decision only because you're not giving him a choice," Chloe asked sadly, "that he loves you enough to let you walk away because that is what you are making him believe that you want? He's falling on his sword because he loves you enough to let you go if that is what makes you happy."

_You've made a choice to get married and I respect that._

"Harm's not falling on his sword," Mac protested, even as she began to seriously consider the possibility in her own mind. How many times had he told her that he was happy for her if she was happy? Sure, they touched more now than they had in the last couple of years – touched the way they used to before. . . .things. . . .had conspired to nearly tear their friendship apart. That didn't mean that Harm was in love with her. But their kisses – the way he'd pulled her back to him during both kisses, as if he couldn't get enough of her. Those were hardly the actions of a man who was happy that she was marrying someone else.

"Have you ever asked him?" Chloe asked. "Or is he just telling you what you think you want to hear because you haven't asked?"

"Chloe ..." Mac began, pulling her hands away and turning to look out the window. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining blindingly bright. Too bad it couldn't shed the light of truth on this situation. Or maybe she was so far gone that she was blinded to the truth. She didn't know anymore.

"Mac, talk to him," Chloe pleaded, placing her hand on Mac's arm. "Go see him before he heads to Norfolk. You owe it to yourself, to him – even to Mic Brumby – to figure this out before you get to the 'until death us do part'."

When Mac remained silently staring out the window, Chloe shook her head sadly, an action Mac saw reflected in the window, but didn't acknowledge. She knew how Chloe felt about Harm – she'd never made any secret of her hopes for Harm and Mac. But she barely knew Mic. How could she know or not know what was between the two of them?

"Mac, I'm going to call my dad on his cell phone and ask him to come pick me up," Chloe said. "Please, think about what I said and please, go talk to Harm. You should be sure before you get married and from what I've heard here, you are far from it."

_It helps if you're sure._

Mac stood unmoving by the window as Chloe walked across the room and made her phone call. Maybe she should have stayed as far away from Harm as possible during that damned party, instead of pushing him until he finally opened up. Then they would never have kissed and then they wouldn't have spent the last two weeks touching and then they wouldn't have kissed today in the courtyard. Then maybe Mac wouldn't have all these doubts.

But as she touched her lips with her fingertips, remembering how they'd tingled from Harm's kisses, she knew at least one thing. She couldn't have not kissed Harm, anymore than she could deny her own name.

-----

After Chloe had left, giving her father the excuse that Mac was exhausted from all the wedding preparations and that they would spend time together tomorrow, Mac had paced her living room until she was surprised she hadn't worn a hole in the carpet. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and, grabbing her keys and her purse, left her apartment and took off in her Corvette, figuring a drive would clear her head.

_Permission to come aboard._

_Permission granted._

Mac pounded her fist on the steering wheel. He'd captured her attention from the beginning, looking so confident and cocky and sure with his gold wings and brand-new medal pinned on by the President of the United States. She'd admitted it to herself when he'd gone out of his way – after she'd all but betrayed him – to come to the rescue of her and her uncle, both literally and figuratively. But she hid behind a façade of Marine discipline and the walls she'd built around herself to prevent people from getting too close, to prevent anyone else from hurting her the way her parents had hurt her.

_I know. You were kissing her._

That had been easier than admitting the truth – that she'd wanted Harmon Rabb more than she'd wanted any man in her life. But he was hurting from the memory of his lost love and it was simpler to brush their kiss off as an aberration, telling herself that he only saw her as a doppelganger of his dead love. It was better than risking her feelings being shot down.

_Damn you. Why am I the only one crying?  
_

That had probably been the moment, more than any other since they'd known each other, when she'd wanted him more than she'd wanted her next breath. She would have done anything if only he'd swept her into his arms and carried her off, promising that when he would come home, he would come home to her.

_  
Is that how long we're going to wait?  
_

She should have stuck to her guns, kept telling herself that Harm only saw her as the living apparition of his dead love. Then maybe she wouldn't have thrown herself at him and ended up going down in flames, leading her to accept a ring from another man – a man she hadn't even dated – just a few nights later.

_  
A 19th-century Naval Commander, with Mic's face, walked down the row of mutineers about to be hung at his command. He looked each man in the eye as he pulled the black hood of death over their faces. Finally, his eyes locked with the third and final man – a man with Harm's face.  
_

With a sharp jerk of the steering wheel, Mac pulled off the road, gravel spraying as she came to a stop with the screech of tires on the unpaved shoulder. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as her whole body shook with the sobs she forced back, refusing to give into the tears forming. A snippet of her conversation with Harm at the party echoed in her head.

_  
What do you want most?  
_

_What I want most, Mac, is... is to never lose you.  
_

_I promise you - no matter what happens - you won't lose me.  
_

Was that what the dream meant? That if she married Brumby, she'd lose Harm – their friendship ending up dead and buried, along with anything else which might have been? "No," she cried out. "That can't happen." She released the steering wheel and pressed her hands to her head, fighting against the headache threatening to overwhelm her. Her head jerked up when she heard a knock on her car window.

Taking a shaky breath, she rolled down the window, finding herself looking into the eyes of a Virginia State Trooper. "Ma'am, are you alright?" he asked, studying her intently. Probably looking for signs that I'm driving drunk, she realized. Figuring that he would ask, she slowly reached for her license in her purse and registration in the glove compartment, holding them up for the officer to see.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking another deep breath. "I just got a little dizzy and thought it best to pull off the road. I didn't want to get into an accident."

The officer smiled at her and Mac forced herself to relax, managing a smile in response. "There's an exit just ahead with a gas station and restaurant," he suggested. "Maybe you can stop there for a while, get some aspirin, clear your head before you continue on to wherever you're going."

"That's probably not a bad idea," she agreed. Suddenly, she frowned. Calculating the time in her head and glancing at the rapidly setting sun, she realized that she had to have been on the road for a while, blindly driving wherever the car would take her. Hoping the trooper wouldn't think she was completely out of it, she asked, "Where am I exactly? I'm afraid I'm not all that familiar with this part of the state."

"You're just north of Richmond," he replied, not looking at her too strangely, for which Mac was thankful. "The 295 interchange is a few miles ahead. Where are you headed?"

"Norfolk," she answered automatically, and then stopped. Where on earth had that come from? She wasn't headed for Norfolk. Yeah, right, the voice inside her head countered, that's why you're already halfway there without even realizing where you were going. "I'm going to see my ... a friend. He's deploying in the morning to an aircraft carrier."

"Well, depending on traffic you've probably got another hour and a half – maybe two – before you get there," he pointed out. "It's probably not a bad idea to take that break, depending on how far you've come already."

"Washington," she stated. "I'm driving from DC. And thank you for the suggestion. I think I will take that break at the next exit." Yeah, I need to figure out just what the hell I'm doing, she thought.

Satisfied that Mac was okay and not drunk, the trooper returned to his own vehicle. Mac waited until he'd driven off, and then pulled back onto the road herself. As she drew closer to the exit, she considered her options. All she had to do was get off at the exit, probably cross a bridge, then get back on the highway going north, back to DC. That would be for the best.

A few minutes later, in the parking lot of a gas station, Mac was still debating with herself about which way to go. Straight ahead then left to I-95 North and back to DC? Or right back onto I-95 South and continue on to I-295, then I-64, eventually ending up in Norfolk?

_You're in love with Harm... if it makes you feel any better, you should know that Harm's in love with you, too._

Maybe Chloe was right. Maybe she did need to clear the air with Harm once and for all. They'd made a start on the Admiral's porch, but maybe they needed to finish it before she could move on – before any of them could. Mac took a deep breath and started her car. Her features expressing her determination, her decision firmly set in her mind, she pulled out of the gas station parking lot and back onto the highway – heading south towards Norfolk Naval Base.

-----

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

BREEZY POINT OFFICER'S CLUB  
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

After a seemingly unending drive, during which a few stolen moments in the JAG courtyard and on the Admiral's front porch had played over and over in his mind, Harm had arrived in Norfolk and promptly checked into the Navy Lodge. After sprawling out on his bed, staring up at ceiling for what seemed like forever, but in reality was only about forty-five minutes, Harm had gotten restless and decided to wander the base, looking for something to do.

First he'd ambled around the pier, watching the normal change-of-shift activity surrounding the _USS Nimitz_, in port while undergoing a two-year overhaul. He'd spent close to half his career on carriers and normally loved the bustling activity that surrounded them, even when they were tied up at the dock. There was always something going on. But this time, he barely noticed.

The story was the same as he drove by the airfield. He pulled off the road and parked, watching various planes and helos take off and land. There were even a few Tomcats, part of a ground unit based at Norfolk, taking off for maneuvers. Normally, such a sight would have filled him with an excitement that could barely be contained. But there was so much else weighing on his mind that he could have been at the controls of one of those F-14s streaking across the sky and there still would have been this empty space inside his soul that couldn't be filled.

Eventually, he'd found himself seated at the bar at the officer's club, a double bourbon sitting in front of him, untouched. He shook a handful of pretzels in his hand as he stared at the scarred counter, then dropped them back into the bowl in front of him. Maybe someday the wounds on his heart would scar over and then maybe, just maybe, they wouldn't hurt so much. Perhaps he'd done the right thing in agreeing to return in time for the wedding, and then he could watch as she became Mrs. Mic Brumby and it would finally start sinking in that she was forever beyond his reach.

He thought he'd managed to bind up the wounds on his heart, the ones which had been ripped open at the airport in Sydney, but the last few weeks had proved the folly of that. On the one hand, he and Mac were closer than they'd been in two years. Yet they'd never been further apart, as she prepared to walk down the aisle with another man and he buried himself in a relationship which satisfied his body but which could never assuage the hunger in his soul.

He'd told himself that he could be satisfied with her friendship, that he could live with spending the days with her and watching her go home to another man at night. But as the days passed and her wedding drew closer, it became harder and harder to keep up the façade and pretend that all was well. It became damn near impossible when, for a few brief moments, he could hold her in his arms and stop pretending, but then had to face letting her go again.

_ This bother you?_

_ It's your drink, not mine._

Now how was that for irony? He was trying to use drink to forget an alcoholic. Even though he was someplace where he didn't have to pretend, where he could drown his sorrows, her face haunted him, stopping him from taking the drink. He'd never felt completely comfortable drinking in front of her, even when she said that she didn't mind. Now, she wasn't even here, and it still bothered him to drink. He supposed if nothing else, he'd learned from her that alcohol didn't solve your problems. It might dull the pain, but your problems were still there in the morning, along with the hangover.

_I can't face them, Harm. I can't face you. _

Harm pushed the drink away with a sigh of disgust. Maybe he should have given in and let Renee accompany him, but even that would have been too hard. How could he continue to take her into his arms when it was another whose touch he needed and craved?

"Is this seat taken?"

Harm glanced to his side, finding a younger blonde woman standing next to him, gesturing to the empty bar stool beside him. She wore a leather flight jacket which identified her as a pilot and a Lieutenant. Well, they had flying in common and she was pretty enough. But he couldn't make himself care.

"Actually, I'd prefer to be by myself," he said, his voice short, barely attempting to be civil. In a huff, the woman turned on her heel and stormed off. Maybe she was expecting the gold wings to work just as well for the women as the men, he mused silently. His head jerked up when he heard a familiar voice beside him, but he couldn't make himself turn his head, expecting to find there was no one there and it was all in his head.

"Sounds like the gold wings need a little polishing," Mac said, sliding onto the stool which the pissed Lieutenant had just wanted to occupy. Harm shook his head, wondering if he'd managed to get drunk without even realizing it. Mac was back in Washington, busy playing the blushing bride.

"I would have thought that was obvious back in Sydney," he snorted, picking up his drink and tilting the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid swirl around. "After all, I sent you into his arms, didn't I?"

"So we finally see the truth," Mac said, "instead of this façade you've been showing the world, telling everyone that you're happy for me, we finally see the bitter man behind the shield."

"Not your problem, now, is it?" he countered angrily. Maybe he should take a drink. Then maybe he wouldn't be hearing Mac's voice in his head, taunting him. "After all, you're the one who's getting married in three days, right?"

"Harm, I thought we agreed that we weren't going to lose each other?" Mac asked sadly, laying her hand on his. She wondered if this was how it was going to end, their entire relationship in shambles because of her marriage. He jerked his hand away, finally turning to look at her as he realized that the hand on his arm and the voice in his head were all too real.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "Shouldn't you be back in DC, fawning over the arrogant ass that you're marrying on Saturday?"

Calm, Mac reminded herself. She'd wanted to clear the air with Harm. Well, what had she expected, more of the 'I'm happy if you're happy' song and dance? At first, she thought to excuse his behavior because of what he'd had to drink, but she was close enough to smell his breath and see it in his eyes. Harm was stone cold sober.

Or maybe it would have just been easier if that's what she'd gotten, the 'I'm happy for you' line which he'd been spouting for well over a year or if she could excuse the truth coming to light because he was three sheets to the wind and couldn't keep his mouth shut if he tried. Yeah, but Harm being drunk would mean he'd have to lose control and Heaven forbid that he should ever do that.

No, what she was seeing was truth exposed. This was a lonely, bitter man who – thinking he was away from everyone whom he had to pretend in front of – was tired of the façade he showed the world every day and who thought he'd finally found a place where he could get away from it all.

"I wanted to spend some time with my best friend," she said. It wasn't the entire truth, but she didn't think he wanted to hear about how Chloe thought she was conflicted and needed to figure out her feelings for Harm. At any rate, she wasn't sure she could explain how she'd gone out for a drive, hoping to clear her head, and had been halfway to Norfolk before she even realized where she was going.

"Well, in case you didn't hear me a few minutes ago," he said, "I'd rather be alone right now."

"I don't think so," Mac countered firmly. She wasn't going to let him push her away this time. Her best friend was hurting and it hurt her, too. "Again, what happened to us not losing each other?"

"Come on," he said, laughing bitterly, "do you really think that will work?" He quickly turned his head, but not before she saw the pain and the despair in his eyes.

"Oh, Harm," she whispered, her voice ragged, recognizing her role in causing the pain of the person she cared about most in the world. "Please tell me what brought this on."

"What brought this on?" he echoed. "That's an easy one." Before she even realized his intention – not that she would have stopped him if she had, she admitted to herself – he leaned towards her and captured her lips with his. In the same instant, they both gave themselves up to the kiss, wrapping their arms around each other, each trying to pull the other closer. For a moment, they both forgot they were in the middle of a bar, people all around, and one – or maybe both – of them groaned deep in their throats.

Harm was the first to pull away, leaving Mac with a dazed look on her face, her lips slightly parted. After a moment, she blinked, trying to focus on what he was now saying. "Tell me something," he asked softly so that no one else might overhear. "If we weren't in the middle of a bar now, if we hadn't been standing in the JAG courtyard earlier today, if we hadn't been standing on the Admiral's front porch two weeks ago, do you think we'd be able to stop with just a simple kiss? And how long can this go on before the circumstances arise when it is just you and me, with nothing and no one around to tell us no? It can't go any farther than this. It shouldn't even be going this far. That's what brought this on."

Mac couldn't make herself answer the question. Her head was telling her to lie, to remember that she was marrying Mic Brumby in a few days, to insist that it could and would have stopped there. But her heart couldn't help pointing out that if Mic was the one she really wanted, then there would be nothing to discuss because she would be able to keep her hands off Harm. God help her, she did want more and he was right – if they hadn't been standing in the middle of a public area earlier today, she would have gladly melted into his arms and forgotten everything and everyone but the pleasure she knew she'd find in his embrace.

He studied her for a long moment before sadly adding, "That's what I thought." Tossing some money on the counter next to his untouched drink, he slide off his stool and walked out of the bar. Only once he was around the corner and out of her sight did he stop and momentarily slump against the wall, letting the weight resting on his shoulders show in his expression. It was best this way. Mac had made her choice and he couldn't interfere with that, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to make himself stay away. Maybe it would be easier after he watched her walk down the aisle and pledge herself to another man. Maybe then he could make himself forget that he wanted more and make himself remember that they could never be anything more than friends.

Back at the bar, Mac stared at the doorway Harm had just gone through, hesitating. She knew that he was telling the truth when he pointed out that sooner or later, they would find themselves in a situation where there would be nothing to stop them from acting on all those feelings that had been coming to the surface since the engagement party. She kept trying to tell herself that she was getting married and that she shouldn't, couldn't be attracted to another man.

She stared down at the engagement ring, watching it sparkle and gleam in the overhead lights. It had been given in love, she believed, but had it been received in love or taken to cover up a hurt? It wasn't fair to Mic. He'd been nothing but patient with her, waiting in Australia for three months, then in Washington for another seven months while she hemmed and hawed on making a decision. Then he'd been equally accepting when wedding preparations had gotten dumped in his lap while she got caught up in one case or another. After all this time, after everything he'd put up with from her, she couldn't just walk away from him.

But she couldn't just walk away from Harm, either, she admitted. He held such a large part of her heart, a part which Mic Brumby could never touch. And if she wanted to discuss what she owed to whom, what about what she owed Harm? He'd been there for her so many times, in good times and bad, during times when she probably didn't deserve his help and concern and it would have been easier for him to just turn around and walk away from her. But he never had. Even when Chris has shown up and she'd thought Harm wasn't giving her the time of day, he'd eventually come through for her.

He even stood up for you against Mic, the voice inside her heart pointed out. It was little wonder that Harm didn't like the guy. Practically the first thing he'd done after arriving in town had been to go after one of the people closest to Harm.

Yeah, but Mic was quite charming in his apology, the voice in her head countered. And he does love you. But was it enough?

_You do love your husband, don't you?_

Swearing softly at herself and the voices fighting it out inside her head, Mac practically jumped off her stool and ran for the door. Once outside the club, she faced a moment of indecision. Which way did he go? A quick glance at the parking lot revealed his SUV was still there, so whichever way he'd gone, it had been on foot.

"Great going, Marine," she muttered. "Next time you decide to follow someone, how about you don't give them a head start and time to get away from you?" Glancing at the SUV, she thought that she might just wait there, maybe sit on the hood of the car until he returned. He did need to come back and pick up his car eventually so he could go back to his hotel. As she walked towards the SUV, she caught sight of a lone figure on the beach across the street, head hanging down, hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket. "Harm." She ran across the street and towards the object of her heart's desire.

As she approached, Harm could hear her breathing heavily as she ran through the sand, but he didn't turn around. He'd figured that she would come after him eventually, but he wasn't about to make this easy for her. He kept walking, ignoring her presence, even after she pulled up beside him and grabbed his arm to slow him down.

Finally, he stopped, trying to shake off her hand. "I thought I said …." he started before being angrily interrupted by her.

"Yeah, you said you wanted to be alone," she finished for him. "I heard you, but I don't believe you. You weren't like this earlier at JAG. What changed between then and now?"

"What does it matter?" he replied. "It would be best if you just left. I promised that I would be there for the wedding and I will be, playing the happy friend…."

"Harm," she pleaded, risking placing her hand back on his arm. When he didn't resist, she pulled him in the direction of a nearby picnic table and tugged him to sit next to her on the bench. "Please stop pretending. Tell me what you're really feeling."

"I don't think you want me to do that," he retorted, turning his head away so she wouldn't see the struggle in his eyes. He wanted so much to do as she asked. He wanted to tell her everything and beg her not to marry Mic. But it wasn't his place to. As she'd pointed out on the Admiral's porch, there were some things that he didn't get to ask. He'd long since lost that right.

"Why don't you let me decide what I want?" she demanded.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last eighteen months?" he countered.

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked back over the months since she'd taken Mic's ring and realized that was exactly what he'd been doing. He'd stepped back because he thought she'd made her choice and didn't want to interfere and risk losing their friendship. She'd made her choice because she hadn't realized she'd had another option. She lowered her head as she shivered in the chilly night air, wrapping her arms around her in a vain effort to warm herself.

Even wrapped up in his pain, Harm noticed and he swiftly pulled of his jacket, draping it over her shoulders. "You're freezing," he said, pointing out the obvious. Her hands froze as they clutched the jacket, remembering another chilly night, another jacket draped over her shoulders….

"You wouldn't think a beach would be so cold," she mused, her voice so soft Harm almost couldn't hear what she was saying. He began to wonder if it wasn't so much the cold outside that was making her shiver, but the cold within.

"It still a little early in the year for it to really have warmed up yet," he pointed out, trying to distract both of them by talking about something inconsequential like the weather. "It only got up into the sixties today and it's dropping down into the low fifties tonight. I doubt the water is even warm enough to swim in yet." His voice trailed off when he couldn't think of anything else to say.

He risked a glance at her. She was clutching the edges of his jacket, pulling them closed in front of her, trying to ward off the chill. She looked so lost, he realized. Quietly, he asked, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course…." Mac began, before realizing what she was saying. Time was that Harm wouldn't have had to ask that question, he would have just asked whatever was on his mind. But you took care of that, didn't you? You told him on the Admiral's porch that there were questions that he didn't get to ask. Sadly, she nodded consent. "Go ahead."

Even with her agreement, he hesitated a moment before he continued, "Why did you come down here?"

"I thought you said that if I needed to talk…." she began, attempting a teasing tone, but trailing off when it failed miserably.

Fortunately, Harm recognized it as the delaying tactic that it was and returned with a shrug, "Yeah, well, I guess I was expecting you to call, not drive three and a half hours to Norfolk." They both laughed a little, but the sound was bitter and full of regret and they quickly fell silent.

"Honestly?" she asked, glancing at him. He nodded. She looked back over the ocean as she blindly fiddled with the engagement ring on her left hand. "I don't know. Chloe and I were talking and she said some things, said that I needed to think. After she left, I got into my car and just started driving. I didn't have any particular place in mind. I just wanted to get away. Then, before I knew it, I was just outside of Richmond and telling some state trooper who must have thought I was driving drunk that I was on my way to Norfolk. When I was ready to get back on the highway, there was this voice inside my head telling me to head back north, back to DC. But I couldn't make myself do it."

"Maybe you should have," he pointed out. "It would have been better…."

"Better?" she echoed. Involuntarily, Harm slid away from her on the bench. But she wasn't yelling at him. No, this was worse. Her voice exuded all the warmth of steel. "How is it better to feel like I'm being torn into a million pieces? How is it better to be faced with a choice that I didn't even know I was allowed to make because everyone around me kept making my choices for me?"

"Mac, I'm sorry…." he began, only to be cut off by her.

"Sorry about anything in particular?" she demanded. "Or is this just a general sorry, a catch-all to cover any and all situations?"

Harm turned away from her and stared out over the beach. From this angle, she could still see the torment in his expression, the firm, tight line of his lips as struggle against this with everything that was in him. "I don't know," he admitted. "I just wish there was some way to make all of this easier."

"Yeah," she concurred, sliding off the bench to sit cross-legged on the sand. She rested her elbows on her knees and her chin on her folded hands. "Tell me something? How did you do it? How did you make it look so easy to just watch me walk away?"

"Who said it was easy?" he countered, sitting down beside her. "I thought we establish that a few weeks ago. But maybe I was the one who didn't think he had a choice. You're the one who, after I asked you to wait, showed up wearing another man's ring just a few days later. You asked me how long you were supposed to wait? Well, was I supposed to be ready just because you were?"

Mac couldn't reply, recognizing the truth of his words. Maybe she was trying to make something complicated too simple. And now look where she was – three days away from marrying one man while unable to stop thinking about another. Idly, she picked up a handful of sand and watched it fall back to the ground from between her spread fingers. "I had this dream," she began, not even sure why she was mentioning it. But she was so scared of losing Harm and she was desperate enough to try anything to try and figure out how to hang onto their friendship. Yeah, but could she be satisfied with just that? "I was doing the presentation on the Somers mutiny and I kept having these weird dreams about it. I would see Mic as the captain, about to hang the three mutineers…."

"I can see that," Harm said with a laugh, quieting at a stern glance from her. "Sorry. Please continue. You saw Mic about to hang the mutineers and…."

"I never could see the third man's face," she explained quietly. "I could see the first man – the Secretary's son, the ring leader – and I could see the second man, but I never could see this third man and it didn't seem important at first. It never occurred to me that it was important, because, after all, it was only a dream. But the last time I had the dream, I finally saw the third man's face and it scared the hell out of me."

Harm was silent, waiting for her to continue. But when she spoke again, she changed tactics slightly. "Do you really think we can do it?" she wondered. "Can we hang onto our friendship in light of everything that's happened the last few weeks or are we fighting a losing battle?"

He looked away, scared to answer the question. Or maybe he was scared of the answer. She pressed on. "So much has happened in the last few weeks," she continued. "Can we forget about that and go back to the way things were?"

The question hung in the air between them as he turned back to stare at her. Both wanted so much to close the distance between them, but they recognized the perilous slope they were clinging to. Harm tried to tear his eyes away first, but he couldn't make himself. "What if….we don't have a choice anymore?" he asked.

"Or maybe it's our last chance to make the right one," she whispered in reply, unconsciously leaning closer to him. Her tongue darted out to moisten dry lips and Harm found himself fascinated by the slightly movements her mouth made. He started to reach out a hand to her, but then let it drop as he realized he was doing.

Mac noticed what he did and nearly reached out grab his hand back, mesmerized by the memory of his touch. What she wouldn't give to feel that heat again. Taking a deep breath, she asked a simple question, realizing the answer would make all the difference in the world. "What do you want?" she asked quietly.

She held his gaze, watching the internal struggle play out. He opened his mouth to speak, ready to insist that it was too late, but he couldn't make the words come out. His earlier words to her echoed through his mind. 'And how long can this go on before the circumstances arise when it is just you and me, with nothing and no one around to tell us no?' He had to stop this before it went that far. Or maybe it had already gone too far, he realized as he tried again to utter the words that would slam this door shut between them, maybe forever. But he couldn't do this.

The look he gave Mac as she picked up one of his hands and held it in hers tore at her heart. But she held her ground, waiting to hear his reply. This was far too important to rely on innuendos and half-spoken truths, as they had in the past. She needed to hear him say it, whether his words ended up being her salvation or her damnation.

"You," he whispered as Mac released the breath she hadn't even realized that she'd been holding. "I'm so tired of pretending that I don't want you….so tired of pretending that I'm happy that you're marrying Brumby."

"Oh, Harm…." she breathed as he tugged on her hand, drawing her closer. Before she realized it, she was in the warm circle of his arms, staring up at the stars overhead he nuzzled against her neck, his lips barely brushing against rapidly heating skin. She barely noticed as his leather jacket fell from her shoulders or when he began to push her back onto the sand. But it echoed like a gunshot in her head when they heard the sound of tires crunching in gravel just yards away.

They pulled apart and stared at each other, dazed. "We can't…." Harm began hesitantly, standing as he brushed the sand from his jeans.

Mac stared down at the ground for a moment, resisting the urge for tears. She should have known it wouldn't last. Once again, she'd opened herself up to him and had ended up being damned. Holding back a sigh of frustration, she slowly picked up his jacket and folded it in half, carefully laying it over her arm. She started to stand, until she found herself at eye-level with a hand held out to her.

She looked up into Harm's concerned gaze, holding her breath again, and waiting for him to make the first move. He studied her for a moment then nodded slightly, seeming to understand the message in her eyes. Bending down, he gripped her hand in his and pulled her to her feet before taking the jacket from her and holding it up for her to slip into. "Harm?" she asked quietly as she slide her arms through the sleeves, overwhelmed by his nearness, but afraid to believe.

"Never be sorry," he whispered as he lowered his head, repeating the words he'd told her earlier that day in the JAG courtyard. She shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the chill in the air as he brushed his lips over her forehead and each of her cheeks. "I'm not."

"I'm not sorry, either," she replied, her words lost as his lips captured hers. She groaned deep in her throat as she pressed against him, promising herself that no matter what else happened, she would never be sorry for these few moments of paradise in his arms.

-----

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

NAVY LODGE  
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

Mac's knuckles were bone white as she gripped her car's steering wheel while waiting for Harm to pull into the parking lot. Had he changed his mind during the drive to the lodge? Was he delaying his arrival so that he could figure out how to let her down gently, could figure out how to tell her that this night wasn't going to happen for them? Calm, she told herself. If he'd been planning to put a stop to this, wouldn't he have done so on the beach, when the approach of a car had interrupted their interlude? Why not let her down then, when she'd been expecting and had been prepared for it?

Maybe they should have come in the same car from the Officer's Club, instead of each of them driving their own vehicles back. But then that would have led to the problem of having to pick up the other vehicle in the morning. Mac knew why they had driven separately, but that didn't mean that she had to like it. She feared that the longer they were apart, the more time Harm would have to come up with a reason to back out of this, the more time he would have to regain control.

As she clenched her left hand into a fist, she saw a glint out of the corner of her eye as her engagement ring caught the light from the overhead lights in the parking lot. She held up her hand and studied the ring, trying to figure out how she felt. Here she was, days away from marrying one man, and just a few steps away from falling into bed with another. Oddly, it didn't bother her the way she thought it should. It should have bothered her. She should have remembered her ultimately disastrous relationship with John Farrow and her marriage to Chris and what she was about to do should have been weighing so heavily on her mind that she was ready to restart her engine and drive as fast as she could back to Washington and to confess and to beg Mic's forgiveness for what she was thinking about doing. But the only think weighing heavily on her mind was how devastating it would be if she never had a chance with Harm.

With a sad sigh, she slowly pulled the ring from her finger and dropped it into her open purse sitting on the seat beside her. She didn't know what tomorrow would bring. There was so much that she owed Mic and it wasn't quite that easy to walk away from that. For now, she didn't want to think about that. Even if only for a few hours, she wanted to step outside of her crazy, confused life and live out her fantasies.

From the other side of her car's rolled up window, Harm watched as she removed the ring and tucked it away in her purse. He wasn't optimistic enough to think this was permanent, not yet. Too much time had passed; there was too much water under that bridge. But maybe what was happening between them would prove to be strong enough to break whatever hold Brumby had held over her for the last fifteen months before it was too late, before he lost her forever. The little voice in his head told him that he should run, that he should save himself from the uncertainty of what this night would mean, of what this night might lead to, but he stood his ground. Even if this never happened again, even if he sat in a church Saturday morning and watched her marry another man, he wanted this. If nothing else, he would make himself live with the memories of what was sure to be one magical night for the rest of his life.

He hesitated another moment, then gently rapped on her window, pained more than he cared to admit by the surprised look in her eyes when she noticed his presence. Did she think that he'd planned to back out of this? Grabbing her purse, she stepped out of the car and made a great show of slowly turning around and closing her car door, making sure it was locked and the alarm was set. "Mac?" he asked gently.

She finally turned to face him, forcing a weak smile. "I'm….well, I don't know," she said softly. She looked down at her hands and took a deep breath. When she looked back up at him, she seemed steadier. "I was worried."

"You thought I had changed my mind," he concluded, making it a statement and not a question. Sadly, she nodded, forcing her gaze to meet his. She couldn't mask her surprise when he pulled her to him, pressing light kisses along her hairline. As he wrapped his arms around her, she felt something odd against her back. She pulled his right arm out from behind her back until she could see the brown paper bag he held in his hand. From the size and outline of the object inside, there was only one thing it could be. She gave him a questioning glance.

"I stopped on my way here," he explained, his voice betraying a hint of his nervousness. It wasn't an emotion he often let show and Mac found it oddly endearing. "I wasn't sure….I didn't want anything to, um…." She placed a finger over his lips to silence him.

"It's okay," she assured him, shivering as he took her hand in his and began pressing soft butterfly kisses over her palm. Her words came out haltingly as she began losing herself to the heat spreading throughout her body from his simple, tender touch. "I'm on the Pill, unless….well, you'd feel better…." She trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to proceed, what to say. She'd had lovers before, but this was different, for reasons she wasn't sure she was ready to admit. She wanted nothing to come between them, needed to feel all of him. For one night, she wanted no barriers between them, whether physical or emotional.

Fortunately, he seemed to understand what she was saying and nodded slightly as he pulled her back against him, holding her tight, letting her feel the proof of how much he wanted her, wanted this. Mac sighed deeply as she unconsciously rocked against him. As he groaned against her neck, they both marveled inwardly at how close they were to finally fulfilling a long-held desire which haunted them both. "We need to go inside," Harm murmured, knowing he couldn't hold out much longer against nearly five years of buried desire and suspecting that she couldn't either, if the way she was moving against him and the soft little noises she was making were any indication.

Reluctantly, they pulled apart and walked inside the lodge, Harm falling into step behind Mac, his hand resting lightly on her upper back, his fingers lazily playing with her hair. Mac leaned back slightly, enjoying the tender attention. There was something….she couldn't exactly pinpoint it, but she would do anything to hold onto that feeling for the rest of her life. She found herself wishing more than ever that she could make this last beyond tonight.

Pressing his hand against her, Harm guided her to the door to his room while he fumbled through his jeans pockets, searching for his key card. He bit back a sigh of frustration as he patted down all his pockets. So close, only to be held up by a missing key card. He contemplated heading to the front desk for another card when he glanced at Mac and remembered. With a grin on his face, he tapped her on the shoulder.

Mac turned to face him, immediately lost in his smile. It had been a while since she'd really seen that boyishly handsome expression. She just couldn't decide if it was because he hadn't smiled for her like that in a long time or because she'd stopped noticing. Neither explanation was very appealing and a brief shadow crossed over her features at the thought. Harm noticed and his expression grew more serious. Brushing his hand against her cheek, he asked gently, "Ma….Sarah?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the sound of her name coming from his lips. She never noticed before how much feeling he put into those two syllables, as if it was more than a name, as if he was conveying a hidden message meant for her ears alone. She smiled, a heartfelt one, and requested, "Smile for me again."

Harm couldn't help but respond to her smile and the grin returned to his face as he reached for the jacket she was wearing – his leather flight jacket. He slipped his hand inside the jacket, fishing through the inside pocket for the key card he'd deposited in there earlier, letting his hand linger a few moments longer than necessary, his hand brushing against her. Mac swayed slightly towards him, prolonging the contact, desperately wanting more. "Harm…." she murmured, gazing up at him, trying to convey every bit of aching need in her whispered tones.

Blindly sliding the key card into the lock with one hand, Harm wrapped the other around her shoulders, pulling her against him, his fingers tangling in her hair as his lips met her in a bruising kiss that left Mac weak-kneed and clinging to his shoulders for support. After a couple of tries with the card, he finally heard the click signaling the lock had disengaged and he pushed the door open, dragging her into the room, pressing her against the door to close it.

"Oh, God," Mac whispered on a gasp of breath as their bodies pressed together, hands moving roughly over exposed flesh, pulling at restrictive clothing. She managed to yank Harm's shirt free of his jeans, breaking off their kiss just long enough to drag it over his head and toss it away. She licked her lips as she pressed her palms flat against his chest and moved the slowly over his muscular torso, marveling at how wonderful it felt to finally touch him like this.

Harm's hands were busy as well, swiftly moving down the front of her shirt, unfastening buttons and soon her shirt and jacket joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He took a step back and his gaze traveled slowly over her body, trying to memorize her every feature.

Mac leaned forward into his touch, praying that he would never stop touching her. It was everything she'd imaged it would be and more. She'd known that he would be good with his hands, would know just how to touch a woman. But she still needed more and reached behind her to unfasten her bra, shrugging it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, her eyes locked on Harm's, reveling in his admiring gaze.

_Is that a request?_

Slowly, almost reverently, Harm dipped his head, brushing warm lips over aching flesh. She arched towards him, encouraging his tender ministrations.

She draped her arms over his shoulders, clinging to him as if her knees might buckle. And she wasn't entirely sure that they wouldn't, the burning arousal was so intense. Her entire body was on fire and she willingly surrendered herself to the flames. Just as she felt herself falling, he pulled his mouth away and she found herself being lifted up, securely held in a pair a strong arms and she buried her head against his neck, inhaling his strong male scent as he carried her across the room and laid her on the bed.

He stood over her, his hands reaching out hesitantly for the waistband of her jeans. His eyes met hers and she could see so clearly the unspoken question there. She was touched, in a way she never had been before. It was another piece to the puzzle that was Harmon Rabb. For all his flyboy arrogance, he could be such a gentleman. "It's okay," she said softly, taking hold of one of his hands and placing it on the button at her waist.

Finally, he unfastened her jeans and slowly pulled them down her legs, taking her lace panties with them as she kicked her shoes off, then removed his own jeans and boxers before stretching out next to her on top of the bed while Mac studied him up and down with an admiring gaze. She often imagined what he looked like and she admitted to herself that imagination paled in comparison to reality. He was….perfect, she thought, for lack of a better word. Her eyes traveled back up to meet his and their gazes held, their expressions speaking volumes, words which neither was ready, even now, to utter aloud. With a nearly inaudible sigh, Harm gathered her into his arms, holding her tight against him as one hand lazily stroked up and down her back. A thousand nerve endings tingled in response and Mac gripped his arm, needing to hold onto something.

"Harm?" Mac asked, her tone slightly nervous. What if he was having second thoughts, even now? She wasn't sure if she could take it, coming so close yet still so far away from what they both needed so desperately.

"I…." he began, his voice just as hesitant. Taking a chance, she lifted her head so that she could look into his eyes and what she saw both relieved and saddened her.

"I know," she assured him, pressing her fingers over his lips, her breath catching as his lips skimmed over her fingertips. "Promise me, for tonight, that we'll try not to think about that. For tonight, I want there to be just you and me."

Harm nodded as he pulled her hand away and lowered his mouth to hers, pressing her onto her back beneath him, his hand sliding down her body. She pressed against his hand, wanting more than just his touch, and he pulled it away, understanding the unspoken message, settling between her legs.

He couldn't take it anymore. In that last moment, so close to everything he'd only ever dreamed of, his control snapped and they came together with such force. He stilled, but she wrapped her legs high around his waist, holding him against her before he could pull away. Their eyes met and she felt tears forming at his obvious tenderness and concern. "It's okay," she promised softly. "I just never dreamed…."

"Neither did I," he replied, struggling to control his own voice. He wondered how he was supposed to go on without ever experiencing this again. He'd thought that he could. He'd told himself that, if events continued on the course they were on, he'd have no choice. Silently, he prayed that this would just be a beginning for them and not another goodbye, perhaps the final one. He reached for one of her hands and clasped it in his, entwining their fingers.

"Harm, please," she whispered, brushing her lips over his. "I need…." Her plea ended on a gasp of breath as they began moving together. She as if a missing piece to the puzzle that was her life had just clicked into place. She struggled to keep her eyes open, to focus on him as they moved together, their bodies matching rhythms perfectly, as if they'd been lovers forever. Her heart nearly broke at the expression in his eyes, at the intense sadness mixed with the passion and maybe even love. Hadn't that been what he'd told her on the Admiral's porch in so many words, that he loved her? Now she could feel it, her heart aching and breaking with every soft caress. God help her, she no longer had even the tiniest doubt about Harm's feelings for her and at just about any other point in time, the realization would have been a happy one. Now, it brought her even more pain and despair. She'd never thought that such an intense love could bring with it a heart-wrenching loneliness.

Harm noted a similar expression crossing her features, cursing himself for being the one to cause her such pain. If only he could have given her what she'd wanted that night in Sydney. If he'd known what it would feel like, inside and out, to be completely wrapped up in Sarah Mackenzie, to be a willing prisoner to her heat, he'd have swept her into his arms the moment they'd stepped off the ferry and carried her away, the consequences be damned. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. He wanted to concentrate on the here and now, on a few stolen moments which might have to last both of them a lifetime.

Mac tightened her fingers around his as they moved together with such force mixed with such tenderness. It was such a contradiction, she realized, but then again, so was Harm. But she still needed more, wanted more. "Oh….please," she gasped, fighting to get the words out. "Oh….more…."

He seemed to sense exactly what she needed, his free hand slipping between their bodies, sending shockwaves through her entire body. Her fingers tightened even more around his as she bit down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying out, tasting the bitter metallic sting of blood, as her body shook and trembled with an intensity she'd rarely felt.

Moments later, Harm was following her, his own cries muffled as he buried his face against the comforter, but Mac was sure she could make out a harsh 'Sarah' among his mostly incoherent cries. She wrapped her arm around him, gently stroking his back as he collapsed against her, his body trembling. She inhaled deeply, trying to commit it all to memory - the heady, musky scent, of what they had done, of all that this night would mean to them for the rest of their lives.

"You're trembling," Mac whispered after a moment, pressing a soft kiss against the top of his head, one hand continuing to move slowly up and down his damp back, in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. It seemed like an odd thing to say, but she couldn't think of anything else and she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, about that and about everything else. When he didn't acknowledge her, she squeezed her eyes shut against the sudden pain in her heart. She didn't think that it would come this soon – the regret and the recriminations. She'd hoped that they would have just a little more time before the cold water of reality splashed on their fantasies….

….Until he turned his head to face her and she saw the truth in his eyes, along with the tears threatening to fall. "I….," he began, struggling to put it into words, fighting to find the phrases to make her understand what she hadn't understood in Sydney. And this was far too important for her not to understand.

"Shhh," she said suddenly, pressing a hand against his cheek, her thumb rubbing over his lips. "I know." And she did know, could see in his eyes the truth of what he'd tried to tell her all those months ago. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then his soul was laid open before her, naked and bare. When he'd said that he was that way only with her, it had been one of the most honest statements that he'd ever made. He had finally let go, even if only for a few brief moments, of the lifeline that she'd accused him of clinging to and had let her see a Harmon Rabb, Jr. whom she was sure no other woman had ever seen. Instinctively, she knew that he'd never let himself be so open, so naked and vulnerable, not with anyone. He'd always kept these carefully constructed walls around his heart, even with those closest to him. But for her, for just a moment in time, he'd let the shields down and exposed the very depths of his soul.

She recognized the truth because she'd done the same. For a brief moment, they had both found the meaning and the gift of true intimacy, a merging not only of bodies, but of souls. She'd finally found everything that'd she'd ever been looking for from a man and a relationship, but unfortunately, it might end up being one of the saddest and loneliest moments of her life.

With Chris Ragle, she'd been too young and often too drunk to understand that there was more to making love than just the physical act of sex. While it had usually been pleasant enough, it had satisfied her body in much the same way that the fiery smoothness of the alcohol sliding down her throat had. There had been no emotional connection, only an empty place in her soul where love should have resided.

Her relationship with John Farrow, although better in many ways, had still been lacking something fundamental. She'd been a lost young woman, looking for someone to guide her. She'd been Eliza Dolittle to his Henry Higgins, someone to be molded and shaped into some womanly ideal. She'd been like a college student with a crush on her older, more worldly professor. Although she could say that she'd had strong feelings for him, she had to admit that it had mostly been gratitude for all that he'd shown her. But even that relationship, the first adult one she'd had and probably the closest she'd come to a stable romantic relationship up to that point, had been built on a lie.

Dalton Lowne – another unequal relationship, but one which sadly had threatened to bury her spirit. For him, she'd been the ultimate accessory, something good-looking on his arm who could stroke his ego by adoringly following his lead both in public and in private. She should have known that relationship was doomed when she'd been unable to force herself to fit into his corporate world. She'd thought she'd been in love with him, but hindsight taught her that he'd been a master at seduction, saying and doing all the right things to draw her into his web, where she would have remained trapped had the Marine in her not finally exerted herself and forced herself free. She remembered sitting in McMurphy's with Bud and Harm, having booted Dalton from her life, and feeling like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Yes, she'd been saddened that it hadn't worked out. She'd invested a lot in that relationship. But at the same time, she'd felt a tremendous sense of relief.

She still hadn't quite figured out her relationship with Mic Brumby. At times, he seemed to exhibit some of the traits which had doomed her previous relationships. There were times when she was nothing more than an accessory on his arm, someone to show off who stroked his ego. At others, he expected her to be molded into his image of the ideal woman, subservient to her man and accepting his word as law. It would seem that he didn't have much respect for who she was or what she'd gone through to become that woman. At times, it had been painfully obvious.

In his favor, he seemed to truly love her and he'd come along at a time when she'd most needed to know that she was worthy of love, when she thought that she'd been shot down by the man she'd really wanted. He'd bolstered her up when she thought she'd had little self-worth because the man she'd wanted didn't seem to want her. Any woman would love to have a man as obviously devoted to her as he was.

She'd come to the conclusion that true intimacy was little more than a fairy tale, something to be found only in romance novels where everyone overcame their problems to live 'happily ever after', that she had to be satisfied with less than everything she'd dreamed of, that her dreams had been folly….until tonight, when a few stolen moments had turned out to be so much more. She'd finally found a man who respected her and treated her as an equal.

Or rather, she finally acknowledged that he'd been right in front of her all along. Although there were times when he could be arrogant and seemingly put her down, he knew when he was wrong. Although rare, his apologies were treasured because they came from the heart and he never expected one in return for infarctions real or imagined, nor did he expect her to apologize while failing to recognize his own shortcomings. The perfect relationship for her might just be the one she could never, through life's bitter circumstance, ever have.

It was rare that she found a man who was as concerned with what she was experiencing and expecting from their lovemaking as he was with his own pleasure. It had touched her, more than she'd ever thought anything like that ever would, when he'd been worried that her gasp as they'd come together had been one of pain, that he'd inadvertently hurt her in some manner. His tenderness had only enhanced the pleasure she'd found in his arms. Then, when she'd made a request of him, he'd shown her that he truly cared that she was getting what she wanted and was not just happy to accept what he was offering merely because he was offering it.

But it was now, at the end, when she recognized what intimacy truly was, when he'd held her hand as she'd fought against crying out and shook with her release, when he let her hold him as he was overcome by what they'd just experienced, when he'd let go of his lifeline and had let her see deep into his soul. For a few moments, they'd stepped outside of their tired, painful, lonely reality and created a magical fantasy that few people could ever hope to experience.

Harm started to divert his eyes, slightly uncomfortable with her acknowledgement of his emotional struggle, but then he forced himself to meet her gaze unflinchingly. "You do?" he asked softly, fearing that he would have to try to find the words which had so often before eluded him, afraid that he wouldn't be able to find the right words to express the pain and joy fighting for a grip on his heart.

"I felt it too," Mac answered simply. "This is what you meant, when you said you're this way only with me." It wasn't a question, but a statement which he acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. She closed her eyes, wishing she could have seen the truth before everything had spun so far out of their control. Now, no matter what happened, people would be hurt – maybe themselves, maybe others. But people would be hurt. There was no stopping that now.

"Hey," he said softly, propping himself up on an elbow as he pushed her damp hair off her face. His touch was so soft, so tender and she sighed softly at the attention. She forced herself to open her eyes, meeting his gaze. "It's not your fault."

"As you pointed out more than once," she reminded him, "I'm the one who ran to him very quickly after…."

"And I thought we had both acknowledged that there's plenty of blame to go around there?" he pointed out. "It takes two people to make a relationship and two to screw one up."

But unfortunately, in this case, only one person can fix it, she reminded herself. That was another thing about Harm. No matter how much he wanted her, he would never pressure her. Tonight had happened because they'd both wanted it. But she knew that if she told him that it was what she wanted, this is where it would also end. He wouldn't blackmail her into staying with him over Mic. He wouldn't threaten to take away his friendship if she didn't chose him. She wouldn't have to worry about him ever using this night to destroy her relationship with Mic out of spite or a need for vengeance. He would walk away because he cared more about her happiness than his own. It was just another thing that she had to consider, on top of about a million other things that had happened during the last five years that made it feel like the weight of the world was resting on her slim shoulders.

But she didn't want to think about any of that right now. She wanted to hold onto the magic for as long as possible. She lifted their still joined hands to her lips, pressing light kisses against his fingers. There was so much she wanted, so many questions that she needed to find the answers to. Try not to think about that now, she admonished herself again. Everything will still be here in the morning, unfortunately. Just concentrate on the here and now.

Harm watched her, studied the emotions playing across her face in the pale moonlight streaming through a crack in the curtains. He would have given anything to make this easier for her. There was a part of him that even wished that this had never happened, only in that it was causing her pain. For himself, he would never be sorry. His only regret was that this had not happened sooner, before things had spun too far out of their control. "Sarah?" he asked.

She managed a smile at the concern she heard in his voice. She could imagine what he was thinking, probably many of the same things that were going through her own mind. But now wasn't the time. They still had hours before dawn came and reality intruded again on their fantasies. "Do something for me," she requested softly.

"Anything," he vowed ferverently. Mac didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at that.

"Hold me," she said, her voice trembling just enough that he could hear it. "I just want you to hold me."

"I can do that," he replied, rolling onto his back, pulling her with him. She settled against him, her head resting on his chest. She closed her eyes, trying to let the now-steady thumping of his heart beneath her ear lull her into peaceful rest.

Harm lay there for a while, staring up at the ceiling, even after Mac had fallen asleep, her hand still clasped tightly in his, as if she would never let it go. He'd wanted very much to assure her that everything would work out, but he'd stopped himself from uttering the words, knowing they would be a lie. No matter which way this ultimately worked out, someone – more than one person most likely – would be hurt. Nothing could stop that now. It was too late. It was just too damn late.

-----

Harm looked down at the pad of paper in front of him, reading over what he'd written. There was so much that he wanted to say to Mac and he felt this was the only way – to put it all in a letter which she probably wouldn't even see until after he was gone. It would be easier….if anything about this whole tormenting situation could ever be termed easy. The last thing he wanted to do was to pressure her. He didn't want to risk pushing her even further away. He knew it would be hard, but if he wasn't her choice, he wanted to do everything he could to try to hold onto their friendship. He just hoped that if it came to that, they would not find that they had moved too far forward to ever be able to go back to what they were.

As satisfied as he could be given the circumstances, he slowly and carefully tore the single sheet of paper from the pad and folded it. With a strong, steady stroke, he wrote her name on the sheet – not 'Mac' but 'Sarah'. For some reason, it was harder now to think of her as 'Mac'. In his mind, it had been Sarah, possibly the most beautiful, most desirable woman he'd ever known, who had opened herself up to him, trembling beneath his touch, her eyes blazing bright with passion as they'd moved together in a lover's dance as old as time.

Grabbing her purse off the table in front of him, he opened it up and slipped the letter inside, silently praying that she wouldn't have a reason to go into her purse until after they had parted in the morning. He wasn't sure that he could face her as she read over the letter. He needed time to prepare himself for her reaction, time to accept the reality he would be forced to face if things did not go his way.

_The rules of engagement have changed._

He stared up at the ceiling, sighing deeply as the memory replayed in his mind. That had been the moment, he realized, even more than their awkward conversation on the ferry, when everything had started spinning so far out of their control, when he'd stood in her apartment and told her that he'd submitted his request to leave JAG. A single moment in time which had completely and irrevocably altered the direction of their lives. He wished he'd had the strength and the courage when they'd stood in his office a couple of weeks later, as she'd cried in his arms, to tell her how he felt about her and to ask her to be the one he would return to.

What had stopped him? He wasn't sure. Maybe it had been fear. Not fear of her and their feelings – no, that had come later, he was sure of that. Perhaps it had been fear that if he let her in, if he let her get too close, that he would ultimately be taken away – just as his father and grandfather before him had been – leaving yet another woman alone to mourn her Navy man and to try to live with only memories.

So he'd made a choice, whether conscious or unconscious, to let her believe that flying was more important to him than….everything, even her. And he'd paid the price for that choice the last two years – had paid a higher price than any person should be expected to pay. Who could have known that such a tiny judgment call would extract such a heavy price from his soul?

His eyes widened as an idea came to him. He wouldn't pressure her. Never. But he wasn't going to let her slip away without making her fully aware of the price that would be paid. She had to know that if she did chose him, it wouldn't be leaving behind a certain future with a home and family for an uncertain one with him. That's what he'd tried to tell her in the letter, but could he do more, short of falling onto his knees in front of her and begging her to stay? He could and he would. If flying had been the thing that had torn them apart, maybe there was a way that it could be the thing that would heal their wounds and bring them back together.

Reaching behind him for his travel bag sitting on top of the dresser, he felt inside his bag until his fingers closed around a familiar object. Pulling it free, he studied it for a moment in the moonlight before pulling the letter from her purse. Unfolding the letter, he carefully laid the object in the middle and started to fold it again, then stopped. Picking up the pen again, he added a brief postscript to the letter. He read back over two sentences, feeling the weight that the words carried, the weight that was resting on his shoulders. Those two phrases could make all the difference – or they might not mean a damn thing. He wished he could know for sure.

Trying to be content that he'd done all he could, he folded the letter closed then picked up her purse again. As he placed the letter back inside, he caught the glimmer of her engagement ring and pulled it out, studying the diamond. That ring had been the bane of his existence for fifteen months. But now they were at a crossroads. In a few days, she would either agree to give them a chance and take the ring off forever or it would remain on her hand, joined by a band of gold signifying her vow to love, honor and cherish another man, as long as they both lived.

Damn it, Rabb, he berated himself. Do you know how many chances you've had to change the course of events? Hell, she even asked when you returned from Australia if there was something you needed to talk about and you turned and ran. Or what about when Mic returned at the Surface Warfare Ball? You could have said something then. Or when Harriet announced in front of the entire bullpen that Mac had finally moved the ring over? Hell, even Kate saw it, saw the pain that you tried so hard to hide. Or when Mac announced they'd finally set a date, then just two short months away? You could have told her what you were feeling, that you couldn't get her off your mind.

No, he reminded himself, you just stood by and said nothing until the last minute, when she'd pressed you again, on the Admiral's porch at her engagement party. You could have backed away then, just like you had in Sydney, but you couldn't, could you? You'd never thought it would get that far, thought that you would have more time. The knowledge that you were on the verge of losing Mac forever weakened you, causing cracks to develop in the shields you'd carefully constructed around your heart and when she pushed, you couldn't stop yourself from responding, from giving her a glimpse of the feelings you kept locked carefully away in your heart.

He clenched his hand into a tight fist, ignoring the pain as the diamond's setting dug into his palm. That little bit of physical pain was the least of what he deserved for letting things go as far as they had without saying anything, for letting her breach the walls surrounding his heart. He just wished that he knew what to do to make everything better. He wished that he knew that he was doing the right thing by stepping back and giving her the room to make her decision. He wished that he could be sure that his heartfelt letter would be the key which would unlock the door imprisoning him, releasing him to a life of love with the woman who haunted his dreams.

His head jerked up at the sound of a soft moan coming from the bed and he glanced in that direction. Mac was shifting in her sleep and he hurriedly stuffed the ring back in her purse just in case she woke up. He didn't want to explain everything running through his mind, wasn't sure that he could, to his satisfaction or hers. Then of course, there was the idea of exerting pressure on her, which was anathema to him. He'd rather cut off one of his own limbs first than force her to do anything she wasn't absolutely sure of. If he did, he was sure that he would be no better than Mic Brumby.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he leaned back in his chair and watched her sleep. Oddly, he thought, she looked so peaceful and relaxed. He'd tossed and turned once he'd fallen asleep and his restlessness had eventually driven him from the warmth of her arms, to the table where he'd tried to lay out all his thoughts and feelings in the letter he'd just stashed away. He couldn't make himself stop thinking about the uncertain road ahead of him while he waited and hoped for Mac to think about what was happening and to possibly change her mind.

But she looked so untroubled that a part of him wanted to wake her and ask her how she did it, how did she manage to put their troubled reality aside, even if only for a few hours. He wanted to know how she managed to find peaceful refuge in sleep when all he'd been able to manage had been snatches of slumber, tormented by her touch, her taste, her scent, by her.

Still caught up in the cobwebs of sleep, Mac rolled over, the sheet tangling around her limbs, her hand automatically reaching out for the empty space beside her. "Harm?" she murmured sleepily, his absence pulling her towards wakefulness. She wasn't sure why. Harm's presence wasn't one she was used to in her bed, but she felt an emptiness inside at his absence. Was this what it was going to be like if she married Mic, an aching hole in her heart because Harm wasn't the one lying beside her? Could one night mean that much in the grand scheme of things?

It also registered in her sleep-clouded mind that she'd called the correct name. Silently, she thanked God or whoever might be listening for that. She would have hated to see the look in his eyes if she'd inadvertently called Mic's name in her sleep. As she thought about it, she realized that it hadn't even occurred to her to think about whose name she was uttering. She'd just known. It had felt so natural, so right.

Mac lifted her head from the pillow, blinking in an effort to focus her eyes in the dark room. "Harm?" she asked again, finally catching sight of him in an armchair next to the circular table at the other end of the small room by the window, the curtains parted a few inches, casting an dim light over the table and over his features. "Are you okay?" She unconsciously held her breath, waiting for his answer.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied, studying her from across the room, committing it all to memory. Would this be the last time he would see her like this, her eyelids heavy, her hair tousled from sleep? He thought she'd never look more beautiful and he wondered how he could ever look at her again – in the office, in court, in a car on the way to interview someone – and not immediately think of this moment.

Silently, Mac slipped out from under the covers and began searching the piles of clothes littering the floor for something to put on. She wasn't sure why it was so important. He had already seen all that there was of her to see earlier, including the tattoo she'd once teased him with. As she'd drifted off to sleep, she'd felt his hand gently massaging that spot. A part of her was a little disappointed that he'd yet to make a comment about it or to ask her what it meant. Finally, she found a shirt – the one Harm had been wearing earlier – and pulled it on over her head, inhaling his scent as the soft cotton slid down her body.

She perched herself on the arm of his chair, afraid to get too close for now. He placed a hand on her knee, idly tracing small circles on the side of her knee with his thumb. "Can I ask you something?" she asked after a long moment of silence.

He nodded, his eyes focused on a distant point across the room. Was this how it was going to be, the two of them not even able to look at each other? Maybe it would be better that way, she mused silently. Could they ever look at each other again and not remember how it had felt? Could they ever look at each other again and not want more? Taking a deep breath, she summoned all the courage she possessed and asked, "Do you regret what happened? Are you sorry?"

Harm whipped his head around to look at her, his eyes wide with shock. How could she even think….? Well, maybe if you would tell her, the voice inside his head pointed out derisively. "No," he replied, "not in the way you think."

Mac waited patiently for him to explain that cryptic remark, opening her mouth to speak when it appeared that was all he was going to say. She closed it again when he began speaking, the turmoil in his mind and heart evident in his soft tones. "A few minutes ago," he began, his fingers moving idly over her knee, "I checked my messages on my cell phone. There was one from Renee and….well, it doesn't matter what she said. But I realized something that I've been avoiding thinking about since I first saw you in the O Club earlier. It doesn't bother me. I've been seeing her for over a year, but I spent tonight making love to another woman and it doesn't bother me, not like it should. I'd even told her that I didn't want her to accompany me to Norfolk, when she'd suggested it. I told her that I needed a good night's rest before I flew out to the Patrick Henry in the morning. But it was a lie. Even if I'd been alone tonight, rest would be elusive. I wouldn't have been able to stop thinking…."

"I see," she said softly, reasonably sure that she did understand. She knew that Harm prided himself on upholding the standards of a Naval officer, on being the epitome of 'an officer and a gentleman', to fall back on cliché. No matter how much he'd wanted what had happened between them – no matter how much they both had wanted it – he saw it as a personal failing that he was relatively untroubled by what had happened. She could understand because the same thing had occurred to her, as she'd waited for him in the parking lot of the lodge. She was more bothered that she didn't really feel guilty about what had happened, what she'd done, than she likely would have been by the guilt itself. "I can understand that, but at least you're not just a couple of days away from walking down the aisle with someone else."

"Maybe I should be asking you the same thing," he said, his gaze steady on hers. She forced herself to meet his gaze unflinchingly, although she was uncomfortable with facing the answer to that question, for many of the same reasons – and more - that everything was weighing so heavily on his mind.

"How did we get to this point anyway?" she mused, her eyes widening as she remembered hearing those words before, when they'd been fighting on board the Watertown. She lowered her gaze, sorry she'd asked the question. Would it really accomplish anything to rehash all of that here and now? She shook her head. "I'm sorry. We've been over all this before."

"Yes, we have," he agreed. But maybe the more they acknowledged the questions raised, the more they would be forced to think about the answers and the more hope that would exist for their uncertain future. "But it doesn't make the questions go away, even if we already know the answers. And maybe now there are even more questions."

Mac lifted her eyes to meet his. They both stared at each other, neither willing to be the first to cross the line, to give voice to all those new questions which their actions were raising. After a long moment which seemed to stretch into an eternity, they both started to speak at the same time, then broke off with light laughs, shaking their heads.

"Ladies first," Harm said graciously, his eyes studying her face while, without conscious thought, his hand moved up her thigh, his fingers still lightly caressing her soft skin along the hem of the shirt she wore. Mac found herself reacting to his caress and she slid off the arm of the chair into his lap, his hand moving up even higher on her leg, her sensitive skin tingling beneath his light touch. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again as she lost her train of thought as his hand brushed against her. She pressed against his hand, but he pulled it away to skim over her thigh again.

She laughed, burrowing her face against his neck, her lips moving lightly over his ear. "I think you should put that hand back, Commander," she whispered, pressing a hand against his chest, her fingernails scraping over his skin. She could feel how much he wanted her as she pressed closer, making sure she rubbed against him just enough to elicit a low growl of need from him.

"Actually," he replied in a low, sexy drawl, "I have a better idea." Before she had a chance to ask what he meant, he slide out from under her and stood, pulling her out of the chair to stand in front of him. He held her hands while his eyes traveled over her slender form, his eyes clouding over as it occurred to him that this might be the last time he got to look at her like this, her skin glowing, her eyes alight with passion. She noticed the look in his eyes and pulled one of her hands from his, pressing her palm against his cheek, sighing as he pressed a kiss against the heel of her hand.

"I know," she whispered sadly. For one of the few times in her life, she cursed her perfect sense of timing, all too aware of the hours and minutes steadily ticking away until the inevitable moment when they would have to part. For once, she wished that she could forget the clock and everything else that was working against them. She's always prided herself on her ability to know the exact time, no matter where she was. But tonight, time wasn't her friend. Time was the enemy, ready to tear them apart. She stood up on tip toe and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his neck, willing the tears not to fall.

Harm wrapped his arms around her slender form, holding her tight as he rested his head against hers, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain threatening to overwhelm both of them. He would never have her sense of time, but he too was all too aware of how little time they had left. Every tick of the clock as the second hand swept around the face was like a countdown towards the moment when they would have no choice but to part.

For some odd reason which he couldn't fathom, something his grandmother had once told him floated to the surface of his memories. 'Harmon,' she'd said, using his full name as she usually did when she wanted to have a serious discussion with him, 'none of us knows how much time we have for anything. Life is full of uncertainty, so the best any of us can do is to make the most of what time we do have.' It had been one of those typically wise statements that his grandmother was known for, but he'd paid it little attention at the time, preferring then to let self-pity consume him in the bleak, dark days after his accident. He had a feeling that this was hardly the type of situation she'd had in mind when she'd uttered those words, but that was what he would do. He would make the most of the precious hours and minutes he had left in the arms of the woman who held his heart. All he could do was pray that it would be enough.

Pulling back slightly, he opened his eyes and studied her, his fingers skimming lightly over face, trying to commit the feel and look of her to his memory. Her tortured expression softened under his caress and she opened her eyes, her gaze locking with his. They found themselves mesmerized, falling and falling through the windows that laid bare their souls to each other. They leaned closer, their lips brushing together, just the barest whisper of a touch, but one which hinted at a barely concealed passion, bubbling just beneath the surface, just aching to be released.

"Harm?" Mac asked softly, her eyes moving over his features. Like him, she was desperate to commit it all to memory. If fifty years passed from this moment to the last breath she would ever take, she wanted to be able to look back and to remember everything, to be able to see all of this, to see him in her mind's eye as if he were standing right in front of her. If nothing else, she wanted to hold onto these moments, to be able to look back and to say that for just a brief moment in time, she'd had everything that she'd ever wanted.

"Shhh," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers as his hands traveled down her body and over her hips, pulling her up against him. Instinctively, Mac lifted her legs up and wrapped them around his waist, moaning softly, reveling in the soft moan coming from his lips. "No more talking. Just feel."

"Yes," she agreed softly before his mouth found hers. She wove her fingers through his hair as his mouth ravaged hers, his tongue delving deep to taste and to explore. Dimly, she became aware of him moving her across the room, the movement of their bodies against each other causing a delicious friction which threatened to overwhelm them both.

Harm realized that this was swiftly spiraling out of his control and he didn't want that, not this time. He set Mac down on the edge of the bed, breaking their bodies' contact, kneeling on the floor between her legs, his hands resting on the tops of her thighs. She looked at him questioningly and opened her mouth to speak, until he pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. "I just…." he began, glancing away as he found himself uncustomarily at a loss for words. Taking a deep breath, steeling his resolve, he turned back to her, determined not to waste the precious little time they had left together.

Slowly, almost tentatively, he raised his hands to her face, his fingers tracing her features. Mac's eyes widened in amazement. This was yet another piece of the puzzle that was her best friend, now her lover. Her lover. She never thought she'd ever be able to use those two words in conjunction with Harmon Rabb. The thought brought a soft smile to her lips as his fingers moved over her full lips. She closed her lips around a single finger, her tongue swirling around the tip as her eyes fluttered closed.

Perhaps he was thinking the same thing, she thought as she sensed his reaction in the feel of his hot breath against her cheek, the sound as his breathing became slightly erratic and uncertain, as if he was trying to remind himself how to breathe. She sighed with disappointment when he withdrew his finger from her mouth, the sound turning to a murmur of approval as she felt his breath against her lips, as if his mouth was just barely hovering over hers.

Then she felt it – just the barest hint of a touch, of his lips brushing against hers. Then it was gone, replaced by the sensation of light kisses over the satin smoothness of her cheek. Slowly his mouth moved over her entire face until she was convinced that there wasn't a single square inch which his mouth hadn't touched. Then his lips were back on hers, his kiss harder, more insistent. He tugged on her full lower lips with his teeth, nibbling and tasting.

While his mouth was busy plundering hers, his hands weren't idle, sliding languidly down her back and slipping under the hem of her shirt. His fingers unerringly found the tattoo she'd teased him with so long ago, rubbing around the spot in slow circles. Earlier, as they'd settled together in the afterglow of their hurried, heated lovemaking, he'd sought out the tattoo, fully intending to make some flip comment about it – until he'd managed in the darkness to make out the shape branded on her flesh. The teasing words he'd thought to utter had died unspoken on his lips. He couldn't say if she'd found a particular meaning in the image when she'd had the tattoo done, but he'd found an eerie symbolism in the blood-red rose with thorny stem now.

When he'd first spied it, a couple of lines of an old song had drifted through his head. 'Every rose has its thorns. Every night has its dawn.' He couldn't have found a more applicable symbol of them or their relationship than that image. If their feelings for each other were like a rosebud, sweet and full of promise, then the thorns on the stem were every hurtful word said and unsaid between them, their significant others and every event and happenstance which was conspiring to keep them apart. Tonight they were inhaling the fragrant scent of the flower, but when dawn came, they would find themselves caught in the prickly, thorny hands of fate. Quite appropriate for two people who'd met just outside a rose garden.

"I got that before I met you," Mac whispered against his mouth, vaguely aware through the heady passion enveloping her of just where his hand was lingering. "It reminded me of something my uncle had said when I was drying out. I'd just never imagined…."

"I know," he replied raggedly, not allowing her to complete the thought. His hands moved up her back as he resolved to put it out of his mind for now. Morning would come soon enough, and with it the pain of the prick of those thorns. But for now….his hands slid back down and he grasped the bottom of her shirt, pulling back from her as he lifted it up over her head and tossed it away.

Mac's eyes fluttered open when she realized that he'd stopped touching her. His eyes met hers and she thought she'd detected the slight flush of color to his cheeks when he'd realized that he'd been caught staring. Or maybe she'd just imagined it. It was so easy to imagine anything she wanted in the darkened room.

"You're beautiful," he whispered and this time, she was the one flushing pink. It was an odd think to blush about. She knew that she was good looking, not that she flaunted it. It was simply a fact of her existence. But this was Harm uttering those complimentary words. He'd called her desirable before, but she'd been too busy at the time forcing him to open himself up to her to think about her response to his statement. But now, it was all she could think about. It brought a heady sense of power, knowing that he found her attractive and desirable, but such power came with a price. She just prayed the price wouldn't be too costly.

Harm rested his hands on her shoulders and slowly began exploring every plane and contour, moving down her arms, paying special attention to the sound of her breath catching in her throat when his fingers danced across her collarbone, the barely noticeable trembling as his fingers lingered on the insides of her elbows or the shiver which seemed to sweep her entire body as his thumbs traced lazy circles on the palms of her hands.

Mac wondered if this was what was meant by simmering passion, what was meant when people spoke of the slow burn of arousal. Had any man ever paid this much attention to her body before, practically worshiping her? She decided that it didn't matter. All that mattered was the man kneeling before her, as if at an altar.

Then it wasn't his hands, but his mouth moving over her, following the same path his hands had, first down one arm, then up the other. She exhaled a long, slow breath, imagining him repeating the same actions over other parts of her body, first his hands starting the fire, then his mouth continuing on to fan the flames until they burned blindingly bright.

As his hands returned to her body, fingers skimming over her flat stomach, Harm lifted his head so he could watch her eyes. He'd always thought her eyes so expressive, whether darkening in anger or alight with amusement. Now he wanted to memorize the barely concealed passion lurking in their dark depths, the way they sparkled in the pale light as his fingers brushed a particularly sensitive spot, the way her lids fluttered half-closed as she struggled to draw ragged gasps of air into her lungs as his hands skirted around her to dance across her upper chest.

Her mouth was fascinating to him as well, her lips slightly parted as she fought for breath, releasing a soft moan of pleasure as his fingers moved over her, varying his touch, light one moment, just a little more pressure the next, Harm always alert for any sign that it was too much.

He was really good with his hands, Mac decided. Too good. Surely there was a law somewhere against someone being that good. Of course, leave it to Harm to have hands which ought to be classified as lethal weapons. Now she was sure of one thing. If he were to ask her at this exact moment to run away with him, she'd do it without a second thought, Mic and all she owed him be damned. She was convinced that she'd be lucky to remember her own name when he was finished with her.

They were combustible together between the sheets, like throwing gasoline on a fire. But was it enough? Was there more than blindingly white hot passion between them, enough to sustain a relationship in the long term? Could they survive the everyday ups and downs, the roller coaster that a committed relationship could often be? Was this enough to overcome all the hurt and the lure of wind and the sky which still called to him? Could she ever be first in his life? Could anyone?

She lost her train of thought, gasping louder as his mouth again replaced his hands, his tongue dipping into her navel and circling around it. Who cared about tomorrow at a time like this? The fire burning in her, the desire only he could satisfy was all that mattered right now.

If what he could do with his hands could be termed lethal, there wasn't a word strong enough to describe what he could do with his mouth. She'd known he'd be good there, too. How many times had she watched him in court, eloquently swaying judges and juries with his impassioned pleas, imagining what else he might be able to do with that mouth of his? Anyone who could use words with such finesse and flair surely knew how to use his mouth in other ways.

Bowing her head, she struggled to focus on the man in front of her, carrying her to such dizzying heights. He had such an intense look of concentration on his face as his mouth teased and taunted her flesh. Again, it wasn't really a surprise to her. Of course Harmon Rabb would bring the same intensity to this as he did to everything else he did. It was a quality which made him one of the best in the air and in the courtroom. As for in other areas, she didn't want to think about that. Not now. Maybe not ever, for that question might end up haunting her.

Harm just happened to glance up at that moment and noticed the haunted look in her eyes. What was she thinking? Was she wondering how they could go on without experiencing this ever again? Was she comparing him to others, to….?

You think too much, Rabb, he berated himself. Even if it would only ever be for a few stolen hours, right now Sarah Mackenzie was all his. That was all that mattered. Trying to distract her – and, if truth be told, himself – he let one hand move down her stomach as his mouth continued moving over her.

Oh, God, it was almost too much, Mac thought. She slid forward slightly, wanting more. But he was slow to comply, opting instead to press the palm of his hand against her as he used his mouth to torment and tease.

"Tease," she murmured, leaning forward to rest her head against the top of his, her hands gripping his shoulders. He glanced up, breaking off his mouth's contact with her, to a moan of disapproval from her. His familiar, cocky grin was in place, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, she noted. She bit her lower lip, drawing blood. Even in the heat of long-suppressed passion, he couldn't let go enough to forget about the possible consequences. God help her, neither could she. No matter how many times she told herself that none of that other stuff mattered – not right here, not right now – she couldn't make herself put it aside. A thousand nerve endings were all jumbled and humming, charged with electricity, she was achingly desperate for him and she still couldn't make herself forget.

"Try not to think about it," he whispered, trying to follow the same advice himself. He'd expected the cold light of reason to blanket them in the morning, when they couldn't hide from the light of day, not in the dark, as they gave free reign to all the desire and desperate need.

"Just make love to me," she pleaded softly. Just five simple words, but they made him all come undone for reasons he couldn't begin to comprehend or explain. Perhaps it was simply the verbal acknowledgement of how she wanted him, needed him as much as she needed her next breath. Then his fingers were moving over her again until Mac was sure the only thing keeping her upright was her fingers digging into the muscles of his shoulders.

Pressing his other hand against her stomach, he pressed her back, forcing her to let go of his shoulders, until she was lying flat on her back, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. "Oh, yes," Mac breathed, realizing his intent. Her entire body tensed in anticipation then she felt it. Breathe, she told herself. It's easy. Just inhale, then exhale. But she couldn't seem to remember how to do it.

"Oh," she gasped as her fingers curled around the bedcovers, her hands tightening into fists as her body tightened and she tried to fight off the release just barely contained. She wanted this to last forever. It had to last forever.

Listening to her gasp and moan, Harm wondered if she was a screamer. If they'd had more privacy, if there'd been more than thin walls separating them from occupied rooms, would she scream his name as he pushed her over the edge? He'd nearly screamed hers earlier, before he remembered that the walls have ears. He prayed that someday he'd have the opportunity to test that theory. He prayed that someday he'd have the opportunity to do so many things with her, to her.

Too much, Mac thought, as her body shook as her world spun and shattered around her. She lost awareness of all but the blinding light surrounding her.

It could have been seconds or it might have been hours later when her eyes fluttered open to find Harm stretched out beside her on his side, propped up on an elbow as he looked down at her, a satisfied expression on his face. She vaguely remembered something she'd thought earlier, about how he'd taken care to ensure that she was receiving the most pleasure from their lovemaking. He was satisfied because he'd satisfied her. Or maybe he was that confident in his ability to drive her mad. Perhaps it was a little of both. She chuckled softly at the thought.

"Penny for your thoughts," he said, drawing a finger along her jaw, his gaze openly admiring. Her skin was flushed and glowing, her chest heaving with every uneven breath she drew. This was the moment he would always remember, he decided. So strong and vulnerable at the same time. Maybe a contradiction, but one which seemed to fit with who Sarah Mackenzie was.

She blinked, trying to focus her thoughts. A penny for her thoughts. Not here, not now. There were some things she wanted to keep to herself, some things she wasn't ready to share with him, even after everything they'd shared this night. Maybe it was selfish, but there were some things which would simply have to remain locked away in her heart. They would have to if she were to survive this.

Her gaze traveling over him, the corners of her mouth turning upward, hinting at a smile. "I was just thinking….that one of us is a little overdressed," she murmured. It wasn't a lie. But if it wasn't the entire truth, that was for her alone to know. "I want…." she trailed off, suddenly self-conscious, although she wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the newness of all this, at least with this man. Yes, that had to be it.

"Tell me," he requested, his eyes steady on hers. If he sensed that she wasn't revealing everything, he kept that to himself. He understood that there were some things that, even now, they didn't yet have the courage to say to each other.

Taking a deep breath, she replied, her voice quiet, "You….I want you." She swore her heart stopped at the look in his eyes as she uttered those words, the intense need she saw. Before she could squash the thought, she wondered if he'd ever looked at another woman like that. She wouldn't ask. Maybe she could imagine that it was a look for her alone, never to be bestowed upon another.

Swallowing hard, Harm nodded, rolling onto his back, pulling a couple of pillows under his head to prop himself up. He wanted to watch her, yet another memory to be filed away. So many memories, maybe all he would ever have of her.

Mac hooked her fingers under the waistband of his boxers and slowly drew them down his legs, as if unwrapping a present she wanted to savor. She'd only had a moment or two earlier to look at him, so she took the opportunity to study him as she positioned herself at his side, propped up on an elbow. Damn, no wonder the man was so cocky, she thought. If there was any such thing as the perfect male form, Harmon Rabb had been blessed with it. Everything was in perfect proportion. She glanced up, surprised by the look now residing on his face.

She thought he'd look smug, well aware of how good he looked. Instead, he looked shy, almost humble. The expression tore at her heart. Yet another contradiction. Damn, she thought. This would have been easier if he'd been smug. Then maybe she could convince herself that this was just a romp, a roll in the hay that didn't mean anything in the larger picture. Then maybe it would be easier to convince herself that she had no choice but to walk away from this, from him. Damn him. Damn her. Damn it all to hell.

Carefully masking her expression, she didn't acknowledge the expression. Instead, she returned her focus pleasuring him, her eyes on his. She wanted – no, needed – to see his reaction, to see what she did to him. He bit down on his lip, his eyes glittering dark and smoky. Or maybe that was a trick of the darkness.

Harm reached out, finding one of her hands and curling his fingers around hers, tightening his grip as the tension coiled in him like a spring, ready to snap. "No….Sarah," he managed to gasp between ragged breaths. "Not like this…." Summoning the strength from God knows where, he pulled away from her, sitting up as he pulled her into his lap.

Startled by the sudden change of direction, Mac didn't even have the presence of mind to think as they came together. Her head fell forward against his shoulder as he whispered against her hair, unrealizing, "Next time, I'll have to let you finish that."

The statement didn't even have time to register with Mac before they were moving together, again their bodies finding the perfect rhythm. Her arms went around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged on an ear lobe, delighting in his harsh moans.

"This isn't going to last long," he whispered against her shoulder, where his own mouth had been busy, pressing open mouthed kissed against damp skin.

"I know," she replied in a ragged whisper, not just talking about the impending explosion threatening to engulf them both. That was the curse of this night. It wouldn't last. It couldn't last.

"Sarah." Through the clouds draping her mind, she dimly heard him say her name. She struggled to focus on the sound, then she heard it again, more insistent. Gasping for breath, she lifted her head and forced her gaze to meet his.

"Never be sorry," he whispered, his tone pleading.

"No." Whether agreement with his statement or not, even Mac wasn't sure as she uttered the single word just before his mouth crashed down on hers, muffling her cries as she fell over the edge, followed closely by him. She tore her mouth from his and let her head fall against his shoulder as she struggled to regain control over her breathing, dizziness overwhelming her. She felt his head resting against her, his lips nuzzling the nape of her neck.

As reason slowly returned, his earlier words finally registered with her consciousness and she clamped her lips together to keep from crying out. 'Next time, I'll have to let you finish that.' Had he realized what he'd been saying or had it been unconscious, a result of the fire engulfing him? Her eyes burned with unshed tears at the statement and the meaning behind it.

I will not cry. I will not cry. She repeated the four words in her mind, like a mantra. If she repeated them enough times, maybe she could make herself believe them. But nothing could stop the single tear that fell from her closed eyes to splash on his shoulder.

Harm felt the tear fall and opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again as he realized that he'd been about to say her name – her real name. Taking a couple of breaths to steady himself, he forced himself to begin again. "Mac?"

Mac. Not Sarah. If he'd called her Sarah right now, she didn't think she'd be able to keep her emotions in check, to stop from giving the tears free reign. Steadier, she blinked back the remaining unshed tears and lifted her head. "Yes?"

He turned his head towards hers and captured her lips, slowly and tenderly moving his mouth over hers. It felt like….their kiss on the Admiral's porch, which she'd tried to pass off as a goodbye kiss. It was nearly time. Dawn would soon be breaking and with it, their lives would move forward – toward what, neither knew. But if it wasn't toward each other, it was time to start trying to cut that cord, to begin putting all that had happened this night behind them.

As they broke off the kiss, their eyes met and both could see so clearly for just a moment. This was goodbye, maybe for now, maybe forever. They both nodded slightly in silent acknowledgement. As they settled back down for the few precious snatches of sleep they could find before morning, a single thought went through both their minds. In a contradictory way, they were closer, yet farther apart than they'd ever been.

-----

THURSDAY MORNING  
24 MAY 2001  
AIRFIELD  
NORFOLK NAVAL STATION, VIRGINIA

"Commander Rabb?" a man wearing petty officer's chevrons asked, walking up to Harm and Mac as they stood on the tarmac, close but not quite touching. Harm was dressed in his flight suit, Mac in a t-shirt and jeans. To anyone looking from a distance, they looked like just another couple facing a forced separation courtesy of the military. But if one looked closely at their eyes, at the hesitant way they touched each other, one would have realized that there was more to the story. At Harm's slight nod, he continued, "The helo for the Patrick Henry will be taking off in about ten minutes."

"Thank you, Petty Officer," Harm replied, his eyes on Mac, who was busy looking down, studying her bare hands, her ring still tucked away in her purse. If….when she put the ring back on, it wouldn't be in front of Harm. She couldn't make herself hurt him like that, at least not right now. She couldn't hurt herself like that. The memories of their passionate interlude were still too fresh, too raw. Her soul was aching and bleeding. She needed to find a way to bind those wounds first. If she had to hurt them, it would be later, when she'd regained some semblance of reason. "I'll be right there."

"I guess this is it," Mac said once the petty officer left them alone again. She looked down at the ground, studying a crack in the pavement, not sure what to say. For not the first time, she was uncertain about her decision to accompany him to the airfield. They could have just as easily said their goodbyes at the lodge. But she needed this, needed to prolong their time together, to hold onto the memories which just might have to last her a lifetime, even if it meant prolonging the goodbye.

"Yeah, I guess," he said, tilting her head up with a finger as he brushed away the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. She smiled weakly and lifted her hand, clasping it around his wrist.

"I promised myself that I wasn't going to do this," she said, her voice trembling.

"It's okay," he tried to assure her, his voice sounding uncertain even to his own ears. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and beg her to leave Mic and give them a chance. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't take the choice away from her. All he could do was make sure that she knew the choice existed. "Mac….Sarah, I want you to promise me something."

She nodded, unconsciously holding her breath as she waited for him to continue. If there was anything which had the power to make her come undone, it was the sound of her name coming from his lips. If he were to beg her to run away with him, to give them a chance, she wasn't entire sure she could deny him that when he said her name like that. 'I love you' couldn't have sounded more beautiful and more heartfelt coming from his lips. "I made you a promise," he began, taking her hand in his and squeezing it gently, "and I intend to do everything in my power to keep it. I will be at the wedding, if that is what you want. But I want you to promise me something in return." He paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, then continued, his gaze steady on hers. "I want you to think about….everything and I want you to think about whether or not you're absolutely sure about what you want to do."

"Harm, I…." she began, but he held a hand up to silence her. She quieted, nibbling on her lower lip nervously.

"Please, let me finish," he requested. "This is probably one of the hardest things….if you think about it and you decide that Mic is the one you want to spend the rest of your life with, then I will be at the wedding, ready as your best friend to wish you well on your new life together, in spite of everything that has happened. On the other hand, if maybe you decide….I don't know, that maybe there is something between us and you would like to explore that further…."

Mac sighed sadly, brushing more tears away with her free hand. His hand replaced hers on her cheek, her falling tears gathering on his fingertips. "Do you know what I would have given to have you say something like that back in Sydney?" she mused.

"I know that," he said quietly, studying her bare left hand for a moment. He'd noticed that she still hadn't put the ring back on and every minute that went by without it on her finger gave him just a little more hope for the two of them. He hoped that when she read the letter which he'd slipped into her purse, when she saw the small gift which he'd left for her, she would think even more about what was happening between them and decide that it was something worth hanging onto, that giving up a certain future with Mic was a chance worth taking. "I just wanted you to know that if you do decide to take a chance that you won't have to wait for me to be ready."

"What about Renee?" she asked. She wasn't sure that she had the strength after all this to face a fight and that's what she would face with Renee. There was no way in hell Renee would willingly walk away. In a way, Mac could understand and sympathize. If Harm were hers, she'd feel the exact same way. But he wasn't hers. Right now, he couldn't be. "She does love you."

"I know," he replied after a moment, "and I know that she wants a future for us. But I don't love her and I think she knows that deep down. I'm….pretty sure she does. She knows that….there's something between you and me. I know it would be hard, telling her once and for all that we don't have a future, but I would do it….for us. I can't imagine it would be any easier talking to Mic. It would probably even be harder."

"Yeah, since he's expecting me to walk down the aisle to him in two days," she pointed out. "That's why I can't just…."

"Walk away from him?" he finished sadly. She nodded reluctantly. "I know. All I want is a promise that you'll think about it. I promised you that if you walk down that aisle, I will be there to wish you well."

She nodded again. If Harm was going to promise that he would be there to wish her well, no matter how he felt about her or her impending marriage, then surely it wasn't too much for him to ask what he wanted in return. It wasn't that she wasn't already having doubts. God, she'd just spent the night making love with a man who wasn't her fiancé. If that wasn't a sign that she needed to do a lot of thinking over the next two days, she didn't know what was. It couldn't have been more clear if it had been printed in six-foot neon letters on top of aircraft hanger behind them. "I will," she promised, her tears falling freely.

Her gaze met his and she was mildly surprised to discover that his eyes were suspiciously moist as well. How many times had she seen him cry before? Twice that she could recall, both in connection with his father. Then she remembered another goodbye, when she'd wanted so much to pour her heart out to him and had damned him for not sharing her tears, for not being as tormented as she'd been by his departure. He had eventually come back, but nothing had been the same. No matter which way things went, when he came back this time, nothing would be the same again.

"I have to go," Harm said softly, noticing the petty officer motioning to him out of the corner of his eye. "I'll see you in a few days."

"Yeah," she whispered as he lowered his mouth to hers. She swayed against him, convinced the only thing keeping her upright was his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight against him. She could feel that he was pouring everything into this kiss, every feeling he'd ever felt for her, and she eagerly accepted and returned it all, wishing that this could last forever.

But it couldn't and all too soon, they slowly pulled apart. Without a word, Harm gave her a quick, heartfelt hug then pulled completely away, heading for the helo standing by to take him to the Patrick Henry with strong, steady steps. Mac watched him leave, not even trying to keep her tears in check, envying him his apparent control. At the last moment, as he prepared to step onto the helo, Harm turned and gave her one of his 'flyboy' grins. Despite the distance separating them, she could see that it wasn't that easy, that there was a bit of hesitancy behind the gesture. Once again, she thought she was getting a glimpse into the depths of his soul, at the turmoil within he kept carefully hidden from the rest of the world.

Her heart melted and she tried her best to return the smile, even through her tears. Their eyes locked across the tarmac and Mac had to force herself not to run into his arms, to capture just a little bit more of the feelings that wouldn't go away between them. She had to let him go for now, until she knew for sure.

Harm understood her struggle, for the same one was going on in his own heart. He wanted nothing more than to run back to her, take her into his arms and beg her to give him, to give them a chance. But he loved her enough to let her go if that was what she wanted. He loved her. How he wished he could say those words to her. He had come close in the letter. He just had to hope that it was enough, that she understand everything which he'd said and everything which he hadn't.

He gave her a thumbs up sign before turning and climbing aboard the helo. As he settled into his seat, fastening himself in, he caught sight of her through the window, still standing on the tarmac. Mac remained there, holding Harm's leather flight jacket tight around her to ward off a non-existent chill in the air, watching as the helo lifted off from the ground, her hair ruffling in the breeze. She stood there, looking like just another woman saying farewell to her Navy man, until the helo disappeared from sight. Only then did she force herself to put one foot in front of the other and walk back across the tarmac to her car in the parking lot, praying silently for the strength to face the choice that she now had to make.

-----

To be continued…


	5. Chapter 5

FOUR HOURS LATER  
MAC'S APARTMENT

As Mac closed her apartment door behind her, slumping back against it, she said a silent prayer of thanks that her home was dark, that she had no surprises waiting to greet her. She didn't know what she would have done if Mic had somehow gotten the idea in his head to come over this morning. Right now, it was so hard to make herself remain tall and strong and to not give into the trembling deep inside of her. She couldn't even clearly remember the drive home. One moment, she'd been standing on the pavement at the airfield at Norfolk, watching the helo carrying Harm to the _Patrick Henry_ disappear into the clouds. The next thing she knew, she was sliding her key into the door lock.

"Get a grip, Mackenzie," she ordered herself firmly, pushing away from the door. Glancing at her desk, she noted the blinking light on her answering machine, but made no move to walk over there and press the button to check her messages. She knew she should – one or more of them was probably from Mic. As the wedding had drawn closer, he'd gotten into the habit of calling her at night when they weren't spending it together. Usually, she was flattered by the attention, but right now, she couldn't make herself listen to any message he might have left. If she did, she'd need to call him back and she wasn't sure that she'd composed herself enough to utter the lie she knew she'd have to tell him, the one to explain why she hadn't been home when he'd called.

She was thinking too much, she decided, rubbing her temples against the headache forming behind her eyes. She knew she needed to think about it – she'd promised Harm that she would and after everything they'd shared over the last four and a half years, after he'd made his own promise, she owed it to him to keep this one. But not right now. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Maybe she could close her eyes for a little bit and pretend for just a few hours that all was right with her reality.

With a heavy sigh, she walked into her bedroom and tossed her purse on the bed then dragged her t-shirt over her head, throwing it on the bed as well. Maybe a long, hot bath would help. It couldn't hurt at this point – she was sure that nothing could hurt her any more than she already was at this point, except for having to face Mic right at this moment. She just wasn't holding out much hope that the bath would help any.

Quickly removing the rest of her clothes and tossing them into a pile on the bed, she went into the bathroom and began filling the tub, turning the water on as hot as she could possibly stand it. She watched the water pour into the tub for a moment, then turned around and rummaged under the bathroom sink, returning to the tub with a bottle of vanilla-scented bath foam. The bottle was nearly full – she didn't often have the time to indulge in a leisurely soak with something as frivolous as this. But right now, she was willing to try anything to try to relax.

While the tub was filling, the fragrant scent of the foam filling the small room, she returned to the bedroom, gathering her clothes into her arms. As she turned to carry the clothes to the hamper in the corner of the room, she noticed a white piece of paper barely poking out of her purse. She couldn't remember there being any paper in her purse. Shifting the clothes to one arm, she reached down and pulled the paper from her purse, noticing a slight bulge in the middle of the folded sheet. She shook the paper slightly, the object inside falling to land face up on the bedspread.

Mac simply stared for a long moment at the shiny pin, her mind unable to process the reality of what was staring her in the face. This couldn't be real. It was just another sign that her mind couldn't let go of the events of the past twenty-four hours. Slowly, she turned her back to the bed and finished what she'd been doing before, depositing her clothes in the hamper. Surely, when she turned back around, she would find that it was just an illusion, a product of the thoughts tormenting her.

Taking a calming breath, she turned back around, the gold pin still shining brightly from the top of the cream-colored comforter. She knelt beside the bed and tentatively reached out, the tip of a finger tracing the contours of the pin. How could she have thought this might be an illusion? Never, in her wildest dreams, could she have imagined this happening. She knew just how much this meant to him, knew better than probably anyone. So how could she have possibly thought that he might make such a grand gesture? She never could have dreamed it because until this moment, she never would have thought that it was possible.

Harm may have vowed not to pressure her, but he'd just upped the stakes, in a way that only he could. She knew, even without reading the letter, which she assumed contained some kind of explanation – or an attempt at one. She knew what he was trying to tell her. He could have been in front of her right at this moment, on bended knee, offering her everything she'd ever wanted, everything that Mic was so willing to give her and which she thought Harm would never be able to offer, vowing 'I love you' over and over again, and it couldn't have affected her more than the anchor and shield, centered on a pair of gold wings.

Gathering up the wings and his letter, she returned to the bathroom to find the tub in danger of overfilling. Stepping into the tub, she sank into the steaming, fragrant water and turned off the water with her foot. Careful to hold her arms above the foam, she leaned back, letting her head rest against the bath pillow attached to the wall behind her. Clutching the wings in her closed fist, the pins digging into her palm where they'd pushed through the rubber backing, she opened the letter and began to read….

_Sarah,_

_I have so much to say, but I can't find the words. You said that to me once. I didn't want to acknowledge the meaning behind those words then, but I have to now because I know now exactly how you felt that day, as I walked out of JAG, out of your life. I didn't want to think about it before that, when you had left JAG and me for Dalton, but then you came back before I had learned to deal with it and everything was fine again, going on as before. Maybe I had been expecting the same thing when I came back, only I found that you had managed to move on without me. I had expected things to go back to the way they were and I didn't know how to deal with it when they didn't and …. well, we've all been living with the consequences of that for nearly two years. That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? _

_I could sit here all night and write down reasons why neither of us can walk away from what happened tonight, but you know them as well as I do. We've been through so much over the last four plus years and I don't have to remind you of that – of the partnership, the friendship, the arguments, the laughter, the tears. You know everything we've been through, everything we've shared, as well as I do._

_I know that you have other things to consider. So much has happened the last two years and I know that you can't just forget about that and about everyone who might be hurt by what may or may not happen. I promised not to pressure you and you know how I am about my promises. But I do need to make sure that you know one thing. You were my best friend long before we became lovers and, although it will be one of the hardest things that I will ever have to do, I will remain your best friend always and will try to put tonight behind me if that's what you want me to do. _

_Aside from never wanting to lose you, I also want you to be happy. If the only way to have both is to watch you marry him on Saturday and to go back to only being your best friend, then that's what I'll do. You'll never have to worry …. that I'll do something that you don't want me to do. If it's what you want, all you will ever have from me from this day on is my friendship and my well wishes. All the rest will remain locked away, never to be spoken of or acted upon again._

_I don't know what else I can say to you, how to tell you in words how much you and your happiness mean to me. I guess all I can say right now is 'Be happy, Sarah Mackenzie' and know that, no matter which way things turn out, if you're happy, then I can not and will not ask for more._

_Harm_

_PS – When I first told you that I was going back to flying, you accused me of valuing flying more than …. everything. I was afraid to tell you then, but here's my response._

"Oh, God," she whispered as she finished reading his words, choking back tears, opening her fist to stare at the gold wings in her hand. Instinctively, she'd known as soon as she'd seen them what he was trying to say, but to have it before her in black and white …. Here was irrefutable proof of how Harm felt about her. It may not have been 'I love you', but even those three words could not have torn at her heart more than the bright gold wings he wore so proudly on his uniform, the wings which he'd bestowed upon her.

When he'd first told her that he wanted to return to active flight status, she'd wanted to say 'me', that he valued flying more than her. Maybe if he had to confront her statement, then he'd think more about what he was doing and perhaps change his mind. Even two years later, she still wasn't sure what had stopped her from uttering the single word which may have made all the difference. Maybe it was the same thing that had stopped him from coming out and saying 'I love you' in so many words in the letter.

'If you love something, set it free. If it doesn't come back, it was never yours to begin with.' She turned the old saying over in her mind. Deep down, perhaps she'd been afraid two years ago that if she'd said something that forced him to stay, he'd end up resenting her eventually for taking him away from his dream. He'd eventually come back to her, but by then she'd built up walls around her heart to prevent herself from being hurt again. By the time she'd decided to throw caution to the wind, he was the one putting up walls. Now, they both had acknowledged their feelings and he was offering to set her free. Not once in the letter had he said that he wanted her to come back to him. Most of the letter was his assurance that he would do everything to see her happy and to not let what had happened, what would happen if she married Mic, destroy their friendship. The decision was in her hands and he'd promised to accept it, no matter what.

She closed her eyes, desperately praying for an answer, for anything that would make the decision she was facing easier, that would show her which was the better option – sticking with what she was sure would be or taking a chance on what could be.

-----

LATER THAT AFTERNOON

After soaking for nearly an hour, during which she'd practically memorized Harm's letter she'd reread it so many times, she'd made herself get out of the tub and crawl into bed in an attempt to catch up on some of the sleep she'd missed the night before. Not that her slumber was restful. As soon as she'd closed her eyes, she'd seen him. It was an old dream that she'd had on and off ever since their first trip to Russia. When they'd shared that hotel room, instead of attempting to sleep in the chair, she'd invited him into the bed and they hadn't been able to keep their hands off each other. Sometimes, it would be slow and tender. Others, it would be hard and fiery. But never before had it been so realistic. She could swear this time that she'd felt his hands on her body, could smell the musky, heavy scent of sex, could hear his voice murmuring words of love in her ear.

It was because it was more real. She no longer had to imagine what it would be like. She knew. She'd experienced all of that for real last night and now realized that even the most explicit fantasy could not compare to the reality that she'd experienced in his arms. But was it enough? Sure, they were hot together between the sheets, but was that enough to take the chance of throwing away what she knew she could have with Mic – the home, the stability, the family – for what may or may not work out with Harm in the long run? What else did she and Harm have to base a relationship on?

Tossing the bed covers aside, she climbed from bed, noting a slight chill in the apartment, odd for late May. Grabbing her robe from the closet, she pulled it on and tied the belt around her waist. Going into the living room, she pulled a thick photo album from the bookshelf and curled up on the couch with it, opening it to the first page, her mind immediately recalling all the details of when and where the picture had been taken. Since they'd all missed the reception at the White House after Harm had been awarded his Distinguished Flying Cross, the Admiral had arranged a get together for the JAG staff at McMurphy's a few days after they'd returned from Arizona. She'd been off sitting by herself, not quite in the party mood. Although she was happy for the man who was her new partner and who was quickly becoming her friend, she'd been worried about Uncle Matt and his upcoming trial. Harm had noticed and, after setting his beer bottle on an empty table, had joined her ….

-----

_OCTOBER 1996  
MCMURPHY'S TAVERN_

"_You didn't have to do that," Mac said, nodding towards his discarded beer bottle. "I've gotten used over the years to people drinking in front of me. It doesn't really bother me." That wasn't entirely the truth. It was sometimes a struggle, watching others down alcohol as easily as they downed soda, smelling the liquor in the air on people's breaths, and not taking a sip herself. At times, it was worse than others and this was one of those times. She was so worried about Uncle Matt that it would have been so easy to give into the temptation to drown her problems in the bottle. Only her long-standing respect and love for her uncle made keeping the temptation at bay easier._

_She just wasn't sure that she could, or wanted to, explain all that to Harm. Sure, she'd opened up about her alcoholism, but she still wasn't sure what had made her do that. She barely knew the man, plus there was that whole situation with her apparently dead doppelganger. She'd freaked him out on first glance, but somehow, he seemed so easy to trust._

_Harm shrugged, considering it no big deal. It had just seemed the thing to do. "Worried about Colonel O'Hara?" he asked, changing the topic to the one which had brought him to her table, to the one he was sure was responsible for her somber mood. Harm hadn't taken the time to analyze the reasons why he cared so much. All he knew for sure was that it wasn't because of her resemblance to Diane – at least, for the most part. Out there in the desert, he'd quickly discovered that the likeness between the two women was only skin deep. He couldn't imagine Diane ever holding a gun on him like Mac had, even if it was just a ruse. He chuckled softly at the memory._

_Mac gave him a sharp glance. "What's so funny?" she demanded._

"_Just thinking about some things," he replied vaguely. He wasn't ready to go in-depth into the subject of Diane with her. Perhaps he never would be. He watched her for a moment as she cast her eyes downward, staring into the glass of tonic water in front of her. "Mac, I'm going to do everything I can for your uncle. He's a good man."_

"_Tell me something, Harm," she requested, looking back up at him. "Why do you care so much? I held a gun on you, for God's sake!"_

_He wasn't really surprised by the question. It hadn't taken him long to figure out that Mac wasn't one who easily trusted others. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that her uncle was one of the few – if not the only – people she felt she could trust unequivocally. "I understand why you did it," he answered quietly. "You love your uncle and would do anything for him. I know what that's like, loving and looking up to someone so much that you'd do anything, even if it meant risking everything."_

_Mac stared at him for a moment, wondering who in Harm's life was that important to him, for she recognized his tone as coming from a man who really did understand. But that was probably a discussion for another time. "Harm," she began, her voice barely betraying the hesitation she felt. He waited patiently for her to continue. "Thank you."_

"_You're welcome, Mac," he replied. Such a simple response, but she could hear the sincerity in his voice. Maybe here was someone else who would prove to be worthy of her trust and loyalty …._

-----

While they'd been quietly talking, Tiner – who often acted as unofficial photographer at JAG parties – had snapped a picture of the two of them. They were leaning close to each other and it almost looked as if they were sharing some secret. Harm, as the guest of honor at that particular party, had been gifted with a photo album of the pictures taken that night. After Mac had seen the album, she'd gone to Tiner and asked for a copy of that particular picture. It became the first of many photos of the two of them detailing nearly five years of partnership and friendship.

What would Mic have done? How would he have acted if he'd been the one out there in the Arizona desert with her? Somehow, she couldn't imagine Mic hanging from the skid of a helicopter. Despite losing his job over Bud and Harriet's case, she wasn't even sure that he would have been willing to lay it all on the line for her uncle. Perhaps the difference was that he knew Bud and Harriet, making it easier to make such a sacrifice. She also figured that he would have spent most of the mission shamelessly flirting with her. Harm hadn't. With the exception of his slip about the bed in the back of the truck they'd rented – which he'd quickly backpedaled on after she'd shot him a withering look – he'd shown respect for the distance she'd tried to keep between them in the beginning.

Mac flipped a few more pages in the album until she found one taken on the Seahawk during their investigation into Lieutenant Isaac's sexual harassment claims against then-Captain Boone. Since it was her first time on an aircraft carrier, she'd taken along a camera. The intent had been to take some pictures to add to the separate album she kept chronicling her military career. She'd been snapping pictures of some F-14s taking off and landing when she'd caught sight of Harm nearby, watching the Tomcats with such a look of longing and regret in his eyes, probably reliving memories brought to the forefront by Congresswoman Delong's thoughtless comments. He hadn't noticed her presence and she'd taken advantage by snapping a photo. It was one of her favorites of Harm, dressed in his khakis, his hair ruffled by the breeze. It seemed to say so much about who Harm was.

One of the things she admired most about Harm was his never-give-up attitude. He'd never given up on his father, traveling to Laos and later to Russia until he knew for sure the fate of Harmon Rabb, Sr. He wasn't giving up on his brother, locked away in a prisoner of war camp for five months now. After his crash, although it had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done, he'd eventually decided not to give up on the Navy and did a complete career 180, attending law school and becoming a desk jockey for the most part, a drastic change from soaring the skies in an F-14. And there were so many other times when he'd refused to back down. She doubted that Harm knew how to.

What about Mic? To be honest, she'd never really seen him in a situation where any leanings he'd had towards that personality trait might be revealed. Mic seemed perfectly content working for his clients from behind a desk. She couldn't see him traveling to Haiti just to bring to light the truth about a case – especially if the truth would be detrimental to his own case – the way Harm had during their prosecution of John Farrow. Mic cared about winning – she'd seen that so many times. But Harm cared about the truth, even if it meant losing a case. It wasn't that Mic was a bad lawyer – he was a good lawyer who won his share of cases. But Harm's passion for truth and justice made him an exceptional one. And although his smug attitude when he was right about something could be annoying, she couldn't recall ever really feeling bad about losing a case to Harm because she knew that the outcome was usually the right one. Even in cases like Lieutenant Buxton's or Kevin Lee's, Harm usually ended up doing the right thing in the end.

Of course, that same never-say-die attitude of Harm's also got him into a lot of trouble, a lot of life-or-death situations. Any incident with Palmer, Italy looking for the Admiral's daughter, on the Watertown, on the Suribachi – so many times, she found herself gripped with a heart-pounding fear of Harm being in danger. She'd never felt that with Mic – she'd never seen him in that kind of trouble in the two plus years she'd known him. She'd probably never have to experience that pulse-racing sensation because of Mic. But her concern about Harm's proclivity towards daredevil antics was tempered by the knowledge that he had the training – despite being an airedale and then a desk jockey – and the instincts to work his way out of those situations. He was a survivor.

She turned another page in the album, smiling at a picture of her, Harm and Bud laughing and joking at the annual JAG picnic, this particular picnic having been the first one she'd been around for. She and Harm had experienced their share of good times. Their entire relationship wasn't about battling in court or working their way out of dire circumstances.

Mac's head jerked up from the album when she heard a knock on the door and she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. What if it was Mic, wondering where she'd been when he'd tried to call? She knew she needed to get around to returning any calls he'd made while she was gone, but she wasn't ready for that yet. There was so much to sort out and sometimes Mic could be a little over-bearing. Right now, what she needed most was space.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she got up and checked the peep hole in the door, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw her sister on the other side. Managing a smile, she opened the door. "Hi, Chloe," she greeted her. "Did your Dad drop you off?" She glanced down the hallway towards the elevator, seeing no sign of Kyle's presence.

"He dropped me off in front of the building," Chloe said as she walked into the apartment, immediately taking note of Mac's state of dress. Chloe knew she was normally an early riser, but looking at Mac in her robe, she could have sworn she'd just gotten out of bed. Not that she wished her sister a restless night's sleep, but she hoped this was a sign that Mac was doing some serious thinking about the step she was planning to take in less than forty-eight hours. "We were supposed to spend some time together this afternoon, remember?"

"Of course I do," Mac replied, although she honestly had been so wrapped up in her thoughts that it had slipped her mind. At least Chloe's presence wasn't really an intrusive one right now. "I just …. had a hard time sleeping last night. I got up this morning, took a bath, and then fell asleep again. There's a lot going on, with the wedding and everything."

It was a pretty vague answer, with just enough truth mixed in to convince just about anyone, but Chloe wasn't most people. She may have only been fourteen, but she was a romantic at heart and thought she knew true love when she saw it and she hadn't seen it – or heard it in Mac's voice, since she'd hardly seen Mac and Mic together – between Mac and Mic. But Harm and Mac – it seemed so obvious to her and it was a mystery to her why two otherwise intelligent people kept dancing around their feelings the way the two of them did. "So, did you get a chance to talk to Harm yesterday before he left for Norfolk?" Chloe asked, as nonchalantly as possible. She tried to sound as if she were merely inquiring about the weather or about how Jingo was doing, and she turned slightly away, bending down to scratch behind Jingo's ears in greeting, so that Mac couldn't see the hope in her expression.

"Not exactly," Mac replied softly. Another vague answer, but true in a way. She hadn't spoken to Harm before he'd left for Norfolk and when she'd seen him, talking hadn't exactly been high on the agenda.

Chloe straightened back up and turned around, about to shoot off a smart aleck reply along the lines of 'why the hell not' when she was brought up short by the look on Mac's face, a mix of intense despair and longing. She just couldn't figure out what it meant, but she was pretty sure about one thing. Somehow, she sensed that Mac had seen Harm, but it didn't look like anything had been resolved between them. If Harm hadn't been on his way out to an aircraft carrier, perhaps even there by now, Chloe would have a few choice words to say to him about why he was letting the greatest woman in the world slip away from him and marry a man she didn't love. She bit back her retort and changed the subject. "What's that you were looking at?" she asked, motioning towards the album still in Mac's hands.

Mac looked down at the album with an odd look, as if she was stunned to find it in her hands. Shaking her head, she walked over to the bookcase and placed the album back where she'd gotten it from. "Just a photo album," she replied. "Why don't I get dressed, then we'll decide what we want to do for the rest of the afternoon?" Without waiting for Chloe's reply, she fled to the bedroom, needing the solitude to compose herself before she faced her sister again. So far, her presence wasn't helping to dispel the ache settled in Mac's heart.

As soon as Mac closed the bedroom door behind her, Chloe pulled the album back off the bookcase and carried it over to the couch. There was no concern in her mind about invading Mac's privacy. She was worried about her and knew that something in this album was bothering Mac. "Oh, boy," she breathed as she flipped through the pages. No wonder Mac was disturbed. As far as she could tell by her cursory glance through the album, Harm was present in every single picture. She stopped at one picture, smiling as she recognized the setting ….

-----

_31 DECEMBER 1998  
THE ROBERTS' RESIDENCE_

"_It was nice of Bud and Harriet to invite me," Chloe said, sitting on the sofa in the Roberts' living room, talking to Mac. Various members of the JAG staff were milling around the apartment, as well as Bud's brother Mikey. She saw Harm off in a corner, talking to a red-headed woman and a black man – fellow JAG attorneys, she recalled. At least that shrink wasn't here – she'd noticed that the doctor had seemed quite taken with Harm when they'd met at JAG, but what kind of doctor was dumb enough to guzzle down cough medicine then get behind the wheel of a car? Not exactly Harm's kind of woman, she thought confidently, although she barely knew Harm, except what Mac had told her. Then again, to her eleven-year-old mind, there was only one woman right for Harm and she was sitting next to Chloe._

"_Bud and Harriet are great people," Mac replied. She gave her sister a stern glance. "And it was very nice of them, especially after the way you acted when you first met them."_

_Chloe laughed, knowing that Mac wasn't really scolding her. They'd already hashed everything out about her smart remarks, except for the comments about Harm and her fantasies. Chloe had tried to bring up the topic, which Mac had refused to touch it with a ten-foot pole. "So when's Harriet going to have her baby?" Chloe asked, deciding to change the subject. They might have already resolved the issue of Chloe's attitude, but the girl was wise enough to know that it was probably best not to get into that again._

"_May," she replied, a soft smile on her face. Chloe tried to imagine what a child of Mac's would be like. She knew already that she'd make a great mother – she managed to put up with her, after all. And with Harm as the father …. She drew her attention back to what Mac was saying. "They asked me a couple of weeks ago to be his or her godmother."_

"_Cool," Chloe exclaimed as Harm joined them, sitting down on Chloe's other side. She suddenly wished she could switch places so that he was sitting next to Mac, but couldn't think of a way of doing it without being completely obvious. Sure, obvious worked sometimes, but with Harm and Mac, she sensed that subtlety might work better in most cases, since obvious hadn't done much at the office. She'd save the obvious approach for those situations that called for drastic measures, like – well, she couldn't think of one at the moment. She turned to Harm and smiled. "Mac was just telling me that she's going to be godmother to Bud and Harriet's baby."_

"_I'd heard a rumor to that effect," Harm commented with a grin. "So, Mac, have you been busy thinking of ways to spoil our godchild?" Chloe's smile grew wider upon hearing that news. Harm and Mac as godparents together could only be a good thing. Maybe they'd get so much into being godparents that they'd figure they should have a child of their own to love and to shower affection on. If the JAG crew hadn't managed to find her real father, Chloe couldn't imagine anything better than being raised by Harm and Mac._

"_Right now, I'm planning on showing my godchild how to appreciate the good things in life," she teased, grinning back at Harm. "Like the virtues of the Marine Corps over the Navy or a well prepared Beltway Burger."_

"_I don't think so," Harm shot back. "No burgers for my godchild and you're forgetting that both of his parents are Navy."_

"_So what do you imagine doing with him or her?" Mac asked. As Chloe had watched them banter back and forth, she became more convinced than ever that if there were ever two people made for each other, it was these two._

"_As soon as he's old enough, I'll teach him how to fly," he replied. "Maybe Bud and Harriet will have a future naval aviator on their hands."_

"_He?" Mac mused. "What if he turns out to be a girl? Are you going to teach her how to fly, too?"_

_Harm had looked shocked at the idea for a split second – which Mac caught, of course, evidenced by her laugh at his expression – before replying smoothly, "Of course, I would teach my goddaughter how to fly. Girls can fly. You haven't done half bad when I've taken you up in 'Sarah'."_

_Chloe listened in amused silence when Mac countered, "Just make sure you leave the nut cases behind when you take up my godchild." Harm and Mac both laughed, Chloe joining in almost as an afterthought because it seemed to be the thing to do, while she filed away what she'd learned for future reference. 'Sarah', she assumed, was a plane that Harm owned and she thought it telling that it had the same name as her sister …._

-----

That was the moment the photographer – Harriet, as Chloe recalled – had captured, the three of them laughing together. Mac had later made copies of the pictures from the party that Chloe had been in and had sent them to her. This particular one was now in a frame on Chloe's dresser back home. Looking at that photo gave her hope during darker times when she wondered what could possibly be going on in their minds that they'd waste so much time with other people when they could have been with each other. Jordan had eventually gone, while Mac had remained by herself for the longest time, maybe because Harm had been seeing someone else, or so Chloe had hoped. But then Mac had suddenly announced one day that Mic had asked her to marry him and that she was considering it, while Harm had gotten involved with someone Mac had referred to as the 'Video Princess'. Maybe she should have tried to be more obvious about them all along. Better yet, maybe she should have knocked them both over the head with a sledgehammer two years earlier.

She laughed at the thought, glancing up when she heard a sound that appeared to come from just inside the door of Mac's bedroom. She glanced at the album in her hands and considered for a brief moment putting it back where she'd gotten it from before Mac saw her with it, but then decided against it. Now, less than two days before Mac was scheduled to walk down the aisle with a man other than Harm, was definitely not the time to be subtle. She almost wished for that sledgehammer right now.

Mac came out of the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt, sighing when she saw the album in Chloe's hands. Really, she was far from surprised. Chloe was very curious, sometimes too curious for her own good. Chloe carefully guarded her expression, managing to convey the impression that this particular album of photos was no different than any other Mac might have lying around her home. "So, did you have any ideas about this afternoon?" Chloe asked as Mac sat down next to her, glancing at the album, still open to the picture taken at the Roberts' apartment. "I was thinking maybe we could go to the zoo. I'd love to see the new pandas."

"It's an idea," Mac said. She still hadn't given the topic much thought, trying unsuccessfully not to think about much of anything while she'd gotten dressed. Of course, it was hard not to think when confronted with the presence of the gold wings sitting on her nightstand. She'd almost put them away in a drawer so she wouldn't have to look at them, but hadn't been able to bring herself to do it, no more than she'd been able to put her engagement ring back on. Both were visible reminders of the weight of the decision she had to make, as if she hadn't already been aware of just how much was riding on her decision. "I just went last week on AJ's birthday and the pandas are something. Anyway, you like animals, so the zoo's a great idea."

"Well, I'm ready whenever you are," Chloe said enthusiastically, perhaps a little too much so for Mac's current mood. But maybe Chloe's youthful exuberance was just what she needed to get her mind off of things, as long as the topic stayed away from Harm or her upcoming nuptials.

Mac glanced towards the window and noticed the cloudy skies. "Maybe we should take an umbrella," she suggested, "just in case. It looks like it might rain." She went to retrieve the umbrella and a jacket, stopping when they heard a knock at the door. Maybe it was Harriet, she thought, thinking she needed some company to keep her from going crazy in the hours before …. Anyway, if it was Harriet, then she could always invite her and AJ to accompany them to the zoo. Like most little kids, AJ loved seeing all the 'amimals'. She turned and headed for the door, her hand freezing on the knob when she saw through the peephole who was on the other side, while Chloe resisted the urge to swear, imagining their fun afternoon going up in smoke. She knew, from the way Mac was holding herself, who was on the other side.

Yet again, Mac took a deep breath as she opened the door, working even harder than she had with Chloe to keep her expression neutral and free of the tormented situation plaguing her thoughts. "Hi, Mic," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray her nervousness.

"Hello, luv," he said, pulling her into his arms as he walked into the apartment. Mac had to force herself not to react negatively as she was faced with the moment she'd been dreading – facing Mic for the first time after she'd spent the night in another man's arms and bed. She made herself return his kiss, trying not to think about the difference between this one and all the kisses she and Harm had exchanged just hours ago, trying to dispel the feeling that he was branding her in some way, declaring for any who might see that 'She is mine'. She tried to tell herself that the only reason she wasn't responding to Mic's kiss was the turmoil in her heart. She broke it off as quickly as she could without it appearing that she was pushing him away, tilting her head in Chloe's direction. Mic glanced in that direction, as if noticing Chloe for the first time. "Hello, Chloe."

"Hello, Mic," she replied, trying to force the disgusting, at least to her, display from her mind. Unlike Mac, she had no doubts that Mic was being at least mildly possessive. Maybe someone should teach him a little about showing decorum in front of other people, she thought darkly.

"Why don't you get changed, Sarah?" Mic suggested. "I thought, with all the wedding preparations going on, that you might not have had lunch yet, so I made reservations for us at Le Tours for a late lunch."

Mac noticed the angry look on Chloe's face and jumped in before she could say something smart to Mic. "Actually, Chloe and I had made plans for this afternoon," she said calmly, disturbed that Mic just assumed that she would drop everything to have lunch with him. "I don't get to see her that much now that she's living in Vermont with her grandparents and today's really going to be our only opportunity to spend any time together, with the rehearsal tomorrow and …. everything."

Mic considered for a moment. He really wanted to spend some time alone with his fiancée. It seemed that between Jordan's murder investigation, that sexual harassment case she'd defended and her preparations for her lecture on the Somers mutiny at the Academy, he'd hardly gotten to spend any time with her the past few weeks. Plus, he was a little upset that he hadn't been able to reach her last night. But, as he'd told Renee at the engagement party, he was soon going to have her to himself for the rest of their lives. He could afford to share her now. He whipped out his cell phone and started dialing. "I can change our reservation to the three of us," he conceded. "I'd love the opportunity to get to know my future sister-in-law better."

Chloe took advantage of Mic's distraction with his phone call to shoot Mac a pleading look. The last thing she wanted was to spend the rest of the afternoon watching Mic fawn over her sister. And Le Tours sounded very fancy and French, hardly her type of restaurant at all. Mac shook her head, forestalling any argument, while Chloe wondered why Mac was letting Mic dictate to her like that. She turned back around as Mic hung up his phone. "No worries," he told them, smiling smugly. "They didn't have a problem changing the reservation. So why don't you get ready so we can get going?"

"I don't have anything to wear," Chloe complained, gesturing to her jeans and sweater. "My clothes are back at the hotel and I only brought one dress with me, to wear at the dinner tomorrow night. I didn't need any more than that, since Mac has my flower girl's dress." It wasn't quite true – she'd brought a dress to wear when she would go to church Sunday morning with her father, but Mic didn't need to know that.

"Just wear that dress," Mic suggested. "Where's your hotel? We can stop by on our way to the restaurant."

Chloe was about to protest when Mac sent her another look, this one an odd cross between 'Don't even think about arguing any more' and 'Please do this for me'. She began to reconsider, wondering if there was a way to turn this situation to her advantage, sensing that Mac was as enthused about this lunch as she was. Finally, she nodded.

"Sarah, where's your ring?" Mic asked as she turned to head into the bedroom.

Shaken, she stopped, staring at her hand as if she'd just realized that it wasn't there. "Oh, I took a bath earlier," she said, willing her voice to remain calm and convincing. "I just haven't put it back on yet."

Mic seemed satisfied with her explanation, while Chloe just stared at the two of them. She hadn't even noticed the missing ring, berating herself for missing such a significant detail. Mac's story had sounded logical, but there had to be more to it than just forgetting to put it back on. When she'd arrived, Mac had been in a robe, but hadn't looked like she'd just come from a bath. She looked like she'd been asleep. If she'd taken a bath, it had been much earlier. A person didn't forget for hours not to put their engagement ring back on. Not if they really loved the person they were engaged to.

Satisfied that she'd managed to cover, Mac went into her bedroom to change, leaving Mic and Chloe alone. Chloe, not really in the mood to make small talk with Mic, went to the bookcase to return the photo album to its proper place, then made a show of studying the dinosaur fossils and bones on the top shelf. "So how's school?" Mic asked, wanting to break the ice with her, but not really sure how to talk to a fourteen-year-old.

"Out for the summer," she replied shortly, picking up a fossilized dinosaur track and studying it. She found Mac's interest in dinosaurs fascinating, although she'd show an interest in anything right now to avoid having to talk to Mic. What was he thinking? What kid wanted to talk about school, especially during summer break?

"Oh," Mic replied, at a loss for another topic of discussion. What interested teenager girls anyway these days, aside from music and boys? "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Chloe, you know I love your sister," Mic said, settling on a topic which should be of common interest to the two of them.

"She's been hurt in the past," she said, finally turning around to face him, crossing her arms across her chest. "I don't want to see her get hurt."

"I'd never hurt Sarah," he protested, assuming that Chloe's statement stemmed from a desire to protect her sister and not any negative feelings towards him. "I'm not like …. other men she's known."

Chloe wanted to ask what he meant by that or if he'd meant anyone in particular, but stopped herself. She had a feeling she knew what the answer would be. From veiled referenced during conversations with Mac and even Harm, she knew that to say that Harm didn't like Mic was an understatement and she sensed the feeling was mutual. But it was something she could use to her advantage. She smiled as an idea came to her, Mic assuming that the expression meant she was thawing towards him, but before either of them could say anything else, Mac returned. She'd rushed through changing her clothes and had put on just the bare minimum of makeup. Her ring was now back on her finger, where it had resided for the last five months. The sooner they left, the sooner she could get this over with, she thought, the idea never occurring to her that this wasn't exactly the kind of thought she should be having about a man she was about to marry. But there was too much weighing on her mind for her to worry about how she should be thinking about and acting towards the man whose ring she wore.

"Then shall we go?" Mic said, holding out his arm Mac. She hesitated for so brief a moment before hooking her arm around his that Chloe almost thought she'd imagined it. Almost.

Oh, God, Mac, Chloe thought as she left the apartment, lagging just a few steps behind Mac and Mic as they headed for the elevator. Why are you torturing yourself like this?

-----

ONE HOUR LATER  
LE TOURS RESTAURANT

Chloe looked over the menu in her hands, barely concealing her apprehension. She couldn't find a single dish that sounded familiar or like something she would even think about eating. She would have been more at home chowing down with Mac at Beltway Burgers, not playing dress up in some swanky French restaurant. She leaned over towards Mac, who was intently studying her own menu while taking a breather from Mic's overly affectionate attentions. "What am I supposed to order off this thing?" she asked in a whisper.

"How about this?" Mac suggested, pointing to an item. "It's basically steak."

"The name of the dish doesn't sound like steak," she muttered, glancing at Mic over the top of her menu. He'd set his menu back on the table, apparently having already decided what he was getting and reached for Mac's hand, fiddling with her engagement ring. Mac pulled her hand away to flip the page in her menu and Chloe smiled, lifting her menu a little higher to hide the expression.

"Why don't I just order for you?" Mac said, hoping to avoid a scene.

Chloe shrugged, definitely not caring. At least she knew she could trust Mac to order something that she wouldn't mind eating. But there was no way it would match the fast food they would have picked up at the zoo. "I was really looking forward to the zoo," she whispered.

Mac understood Chloe's frustration, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She could at least grant Mic the honor of her presence at his surprise lunch date, especially after …. No, I won't think about that, she promised herself. She would just have to pretend for a few hours that nothing was wrong, pretend that she wasn't constantly comparing the two men in her life. "Maybe we will have some time tomorrow morning," she offered in a conciliatory tone, although finding a few hours to while away at the zoo would be near impossible on the day before her wedding. "I was looking forward to it, too."

Chloe set down her menu, satisfied that Mac knew what to order for her; and after a moment, Mac set hers down as well, an uncomfortable silence settling between the two. If Mic noticed, he appeared unbothered by it. "So, Chloe, when are you flying back home?" Mic asked, trying to draw her out.

"Monday morning," she replied. Hmmm. Now was the perfect opportunity to have some fun. She paused a beat, then added excitedly, "We were going to fly home Sunday, but Harm got three tickets to the Orioles game Sunday afternoon and invited Dad and me. I think they're playing the Rangers."

Mic looked disturbed for a moment at the idea of Chloe spending time with Harm before he managed to cover. She was going to be his bloody sister-in-law. What the hell was she doing spending time with Rabb while she was in town for his wedding to her sister? "The Orioles?" he asked, confusion evident in his tone. He'd see what he could do about the other later.

"You know, baseball," Chloe said, slightly exasperated. He's lived in the US for two and a half years and doesn't know what baseball is, she thought. Amazing.

"Mic doesn't really follow American sports," Mac explained, shooting Chloe a look, although Chloe wasn't sure if she was upset about her tone or the fact that she'd mentioned Harm. Mac seemed to be better about masking her emotions now that Mic was present and seemingly watching her every move. "He's more into rugby and cricket, although he sometimes watches soccer."

"I understand your baseball's a bit like cricket," he offered. "Maybe if you're ever in Australia, I can take you sometime."

"And I heard that matches can last for days," Chloe countered, ignoring his last suggestion. Why would she ever want to go to Australia, unless …. She shuddered inwardly at the thought that he might someday convince Mac to up and move halfway around the world. Over her dead body, she promised silently, and likely Harm's as well. The thought mollified her somewhat. "And people think baseball games run long." She shook her head as she rolled her eyes. Just what were he and Mac supposed to have in common? Mac was just about as true-blue American as they come and this guy didn't even know what baseball was, not really. And like most foreigners, he probably looked down his nose at football – at least the American variety.

"Harm had mentioned something about the game a few days ago," Mac said pleasantly to Chloe.

"I'm looking forward to it," Chloe said, watching Mic's reaction out of the corner of her eye. "There's not really any opportunity to attend a major league game up in Vermont. Boston's a little too far away. That's one thing I miss about Washington, not being able to go to Baltimore for games. Mac used to take me all the time, not only to Orioles' games, but also to see the Redskins and Wizards. Harm even took me to a few games before I went to live with my grandparents." She smiled, remembering a Redskins game she, Harm and Mac had all attended together that first winter she'd known Harm. It had been cold and snowing and the three of them had huddled together in the stands, trying to stay warm.

At Mic's blank look, she shook herself from her reverie and prompted, "The Washington Redskins is the local football team and the Washington Wizards is the basketball team."

"Oh," Mic said, wondering how he could compete with that. He'd never paid much attention to American sports, except to watch the occasional soccer game or when he was someplace like McMurphy's and then the TV tended to be ignored in favor of whatever drink he was nursing or his companion if it was his fiancée, but to his mind, American sports didn't really compare to international sports. Soccer, the closest Americans came to an international sport, wasn't exactly high on the average American's list of favorite sports. He supposed he could learn to show an interest if it meant getting on Chloe's good side, especially since she seemed to enjoy attending games with Rabb and that definitely didn't sit well with him. "Maybe you ladies could take me to a game sometime."

"Maybe," Chloe replied noncommittally. "Will you excuse me? I need to find the bathroom."

Mac nodded, pointing towards the other side of the dining room, towards the restrooms. Once Chloe was gone, she steeled herself for Mic's reaction to the conversation thus far. She didn't have to wait long.

"Your sister seems to enjoy spending time with Rabb," he said, trying to remain calm. He knew that he was a sore subject between Mac and himself, but he was willing to be pleasant about the subject. After all, in less than two days, she would be his forever. "And he seems to have taken a great interest in her."

"Why shouldn't he?" she asked. "He's my best friend and he really does like Chloe a lot. She's fun to be around."

Mic ignored the last statement now that Chloe wasn't present, choosing to focus on her assertion about Harm. "I thought I was your best friend," he said, almost pouting. That statement definitely did not sit well with him. In his perfect world, Rabb would fade into the woodwork once the wedding ring was on Mac's finger. Rabb's being his wife's best friend didn't enter into the equation, in any way.

Mac looked at him as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. Not realizing that Harm was her best friend was almost like not realizing that she was a Marine. It seemed ridiculous to her, especially after all she and Harm had been through together. But the last thing she wanted was to argue about it, and discussing Harm was a sure-fire way for that to happen. She couldn't help but wonder what Mic would do if the positions were reversed and Harm was the one she was with. She had her doubts that Mic would be as willing to walk away, if it was what she wanted. She shook her head and decided that it was time to change the subject back to Chloe. That was the closest thing to a safe topic that she could think of, with the possible exception of the wedding, and that was one of the last things she wanted to talk about at the present moment.

"Chloe's had a tough life," she pointed out, running a finger along the rim of her water glass. "She hasn't had a lot of people take an interest in her and I'm glad that all my friends at JAG – Harm, Bud, Harriet, Gunny, even the Admiral – are interested in her and how she's doing."

"She doesn't seem to like me all that much," he admitted, hoping Mac could provide some insight into how to win the girl over.

"Mic, she's fourteen and she barely knows you," Mac protested, keeping her tone light. "Teenagers tend to want to talk about things they like and to ignore everything else. You haven't exactly been helping by showing a definite lack of interest in her favorite sports. And to an American teenager, offering to take her to a cricket match probably compares to offering to send her to boarding school. You know what Chloe and I had been planning to do this afternoon? Go to the zoo and probably lunch on burgers and fries. Most young girls aren't going to get too excited about spending the afternoon in a fancy restaurant instead."

Mic thought about that. It had never even occurred to him to ask what Mac and Chloe had been planning to do and to see if he could become a part of their plans. He was trying to build a reputation as a lawyer and most people's image of one included fancy restaurants and luxury homes, not burgers and trips to the zoo. Not that he didn't like those things, but until he established himself and got people to take him seriously as a civilian lawyer, he needed to include some of the finer things in his life. "I invited her to join us because I want to get to know her better," he pointed out. "She's your sister and I want her to like me."

"Mic, don't try so hard," she suggested. "Chloe wants me to be happy, above all else, and if she sees that I'm happy, then she'll come around. It's not going to happen overnight." Especially if I'm not sure if I'm happy, she thought.

Chloe returned just in time to hear the last bit of their conversation. So Mic thought he could win her over by taking her to fancy lunches. She'd laugh at the idea if the situation were less serious. But nothing less than her sister's future happiness was at stake and she knew Mic Brumby was not the man to make her sister happy. She cleared her throat and slid into her seat, managing a smile.

A somewhat uncomfortable silence reigned over the table for most of lunch. Mic went to the opposite extreme, backing off from Chloe completely. He'd tried to talk about the wedding, until Mac had protested that she wanted to relax this afternoon, not stress out over wedding details. He hadn't really cared for the idea, but he'd backed off, partly out of concern for how Chloe would perceive it. As for Mac, he just assumed that it was pre-wedding jitters and that she was as thrilled as he was, even if it didn't quite show as it did with him.

Mac, of course, kept going back and forth in her mind between Harm and Mic, this time going over their respective relationships with her sister. Harm hadn't even had to try to establish a rapport with her – Chloe had automatically taken to him as if they'd known each other for years. Maybe that was part of the problem between Chloe and Mic – she was too close to Harm and too stuck on the idea of Mac and Harm as a couple, preventing her from warming up to Mic. Perhaps Mac had talked about him too much and not enough about Mic.

Chloe, for her part, was satisfied that Mic seemed uncomfortable around her, but she was concerned about Mac's attitude. If she were about to marry someone, she couldn't imagine not wanting to talk about it. Being the romantic that she was, she wouldn't be able to stop talking about it. But Mac had avoided the topic and had even seemed uncomfortable with the subject. She wondered if Mac might not be close to calling the whole thing off. Maybe whatever had happened between her and Harm when she'd seen him yesterday was causing her to question everything. Please, she prayed silently.

"So, Sarah, after we drop Chloe off back at her hotel," Mic said suddenly as he pushed his plate back, finished with his own meal, "why don't you come over to my place? We can discuss our honeymoon, have a late dinner …. " He trailed off, a confident look on his face.

No, Mac thought. I can't do this …. "I'm sorry, Mic," she said, sounding sincere in her apology, even as she was trembling inside. "I already promised Chloe she could spend the night with me tonight. Remember, I'm not getting much of an opportunity to spend time with her this trip."

Mic looked back and forth between the two, from Chloe's hopeful expression to Mac's plea for understanding. He shrugged. In a couple of days, he would have her all to himself for their two-week honeymoon in Australia, then every day and night for the rest of their lives. He could be magnanimous now. "No worries," he said, leaning over to nuzzle against Mac's ear. He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "We're going to be alone for two weeks anyway after a few days."

Mac shivered, but not from anticipation, as Mic assumed. God, how am I supposed to do this? she wondered. It was just one night, but why can't I make myself forget it and pay attention to my fiancé the way he deserves? God help me, why can't I?

-----

MAC'S APARTMENT

"Why did you lie to him?" Chloe asked abruptly, after pulling off her jacket and tossing it on the couch. If there was a time for being obvious, this was it. Her sister, strident defender of truth and justice, had just lied to the man she was planning to marry. There was so much wrong with this relationship, Chloe wasn't really sure where to begin the discussion.

Mac stopped in the process of hanging up her own jacket and spun around to stare at her sister. She didn't even pretend not to know what Chloe was talking about. "Why did you tell Mic that you promised me that I could spend the night?" Chloe pressed on. "We'd never even discussed that. Mac, please tell me what's going on. What happened when you saw Harm?"

"Nothing happened," she protested, the lie not coming as easily to her lips now that she was talking to Chloe instead of Mic. Maybe she suspected that she wouldn't be believed, no matter what she claimed. Or maybe there was something deep inside of her that actually wanted to talk to someone about the thoughts tormenting her. "Harm …. he just wants me to be happy."

"And this is happy?" Chloe protested. "You could barely stand to let BugMe touch you, you lied to avoid spending the night with him, and you're planning to marry the man in a day and a half!"

"I guess I don't have to ask where you learned that word," she said, a bit angry, resolving to have a talk with Harm later about talking about Mic in front of her impressionable sister, not even stopping to think that Chloe's feeling about Mic might actually be pretty close to Harm's. "Mic's a good man – he's kind and takes care of me and he loves me."

"But I've never once heard you say that you love him," Chloe pointed out. "If that had been Harm with us, would you have been so quick to lie to him about not wanting to spend the night to him? Would you flinch every time he came near you? Honestly, I'm surprised Mic didn't notice something was wrong. Or is he so confident that he's won the prize that he doesn't even notice that you are not as into this wedding as he is?"

_Just make love to me._

"I am not some prize to be won," Mac protested angrily, even as she admitted to herself that she'd sometimes felt that way – like when Mic had called her his fiancée in People or had told Harm behind her back that they were about to set a date. He'd been flaunting his relationship with her in both cases and it still bothered her to a degree. Getting angry made it easier to drive that other voice from her head, the one asking Harm to make love to her.

"Does he know that?" Chloe asked in a calmer tone. She hated seeing Mac so torn and upset, also noting that Mac hadn't protested her assertion that she wasn't as into the wedding as Mic was. "You said Harm just wants you to be happy and I believe that, knowing everything that I do about all you've done for each other. But what about Mic? How can he push like this when you're not happy? Doesn't he care about your happiness at all or does he just assume that because you're with him, you'll automatically be the happiest woman alive?"

"Chloe, there is so much that you don't know," she said steadily, trying to convince herself as well as Chloe, "about my relationship with Mic, about how I feel about him, even about my relation – I mean, my friendship with Harm. You're making assumptions without having all the facts."

Chloe sat down on the couch, Mac hesitating for a moment before joining her. "Do you remember my first day at JAG, what I'd told Harm?" Chloe asked gently, having caught Mac's slip. So she definitely did consider Harm to be more than a friend. That was good to know.

_Mac's told me all about you. In fact, you're all she talks about …. although sometimes it's hard to tell what parts are true and what parts are just – well, you know – her fantasies._

Mac nodded mutely as she remembered Harm's amused look and Chloe's smug one, remembered thinking that she'd wanted Harm to ask her what she'd told Chloe to make her say something like that. Chloe continued, "That didn't just pop out of my mouth. I got that from listening to you talk about him. Arizona, the Appalachian Mountains, Russia, his Distinguished Flying Crosses – you make him seem larger than life and it is so obvious from the way you talk about him how much you love him. And it was even more obvious when I saw how you reacted when he told you he wanted to become a pilot again. You wanted so much to ask him to stay, to ask him not to leave you. I was there, remember?"

"I remember," Mac said softly, smiling weakly. That had been one of the worst days of her life, almost as bad as the day he'd actually walked out of JAG, almost as heartbreaking as a certain summer night under a certain bridge and a certain talk about eternity. "But there's more to this. Harm has his faults. He makes mistakes, sometimes big ones and sometimes it's hard to look past that."

"But you manage to eventually, don't you," Chloe stated, making sure that Mac knew from her tone that this was fact, not a question. "Because he's your best friend and you love him."

"Chloe there's a difference between loving someone, say as a friend, and being in love with someone," Mac explained patiently. "It's not all grand romance and all that stuff in novels. It's about being there for someone, talking care of them …."

"What about that day in the mountains?" Chloe interrupted. "Harm took care of you; he was there for you when you were in trouble. When has Mic ever done something like that for you?"

_I'm gonna get you through this. I promise._

"You can't compare the two," Mac countered, even though she'd done the same thing herself earlier. "Mic is a different kind of man. He doesn't get into those types of situations. He's steadier …."

"Mac, you're a feisty, gung-ho, Marine," Chloe cut in again. "You seek out danger probably just as much as Harm does. Please don't tell me that you're looking for steady and stable. You thrive on the excitement of your life. Aren't you the one who had the brilliant idea of following Harm into Russia not once, but twice? Can you tell me that you would really be satisfied without all the thrills and excitement? Can you tell me that Mic isn't going to have a problem with the more dangerous aspects of your job?"

"He hasn't so far," Mac protested with a laugh. "He even joked once about falling in love with Sheena, Queen of the Jungle."

"But what about after you're married and he expects you to start producing little Brumbys? Is he going to be so thrilled with your life then?" Chloe asked. Somehow, she sensed that Mic was going to expect his wife to spend lots of time at home being the perfect wife and someday the perfect mother. Although Harm would probably turn protective if Mac were expecting his child – what man wouldn't – Chloe suspected that he wouldn't spend all the rest of the time trying to shelter Mac from the big, bad world. He'd be out there in it, right next to her, looking out for her as she looked out for him, unstoppable because they were a team and knew how to work together, both in the courtroom and out of it. And wasn't that what a marriage should be, a team effort?

"That's probably still a ways down the road," Mac said. "We haven't even gotten married yet. A family is probably still a few years away, at least."

"But you've thought about it – a family, I mean?"

_Tell you what. Five years from this moment, if neither one of us is in a relationship, we'll go halves on a kid._

"Yes, I've thought about it," she admitted softly, a soft smile appearing on her face. Oh, she'd thought about it. What was it supposed to be – a little boy with her looks and Harm's brains or a daughter with his looks and her brains? Her face fell when she realized that every time she'd imagined her future children, she'd never pictured Mic as their father. After they'd gotten engaged, she'd simply avoided thinking about the eventuality.

"Mac, I love you and, just like Harm, I want you to be happy," Chloe assured her, emphasizing the word 'happy'. "Please think about this long and hard. If you're still not sure, at least postpone for a bit, get your bearings. If Mic really does want you to be happy, then he'll wait. If your happiness is more important to him than anything else, then he'll understand."

"Chloe, it's not that simple …."

"God, Mac, what will it take to get you to realize that you're in no condition to get married, not right now, anyway?" Chloe asked, practically shouting. She held her breath, waiting for Mac to argue the point with her, a bit startled by her outburst.

Instead, Mac looked down at her hands, studying the ring on her left hand. If last night hadn't settled things in her mind – if making love to a man not her fiancée couldn't immediately get her to back away from this wedding – then what could? "I'm not sure that anything can anymore," she whispered, her eyes surprisingly dry. She'd shed all her tears that morning, watching Harm fly away from her, reading his letter. She didn't think that she had any more left to shed.

Hearing the heartbreak evident in her tone, Chloe was instantly contrite. Mac was hurting so much and all she was doing was adding to it. She threw her arms around Mac's shoulders and hugged her tight. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't want you to be hurt and …."

"It's okay," Mac assured her, returning the hug. "I love you for being so concerned." She pulled back enough so she could look Chloe in the eye. "Maybe you're right, because you're not asking me anything that I haven't already been asking myself."

Chloe stared at her, stunned. For Mac to make an admission like that …. She knew that Mac didn't let other people in easily, not even her, probably not even Harm at times. She knew because she'd been there herself, her sarcasm used as a defense mechanism to prevent others from getting too close. But Mac, Harm and their friends at JAG had all looked past that to the scared little girl who wanted nothing more than to be loved. She knew that there was someone else who wanted nothing more than to be loved, but would it be worth it for Mac to let herself be loved by the wrong man?

----

To be continued…


	6. Chapter 6

FRIDAY AFTERNOON  
25 MAY 2001  
USS PATRICK HENRY  
APPROX. 500 MILES ESE OF NORFOLK, VIRGINIA

"Way to go, Hammer," Skates said enthusiastically as she stepped out onto the observation deck. Harm was standing at the railing, leaning forward, clasping his hands around the top rail, staring out over the churning ocean below. "I guess you showed Paddles. Word is that even the skipper is impressed." She laughed, remembering how Harm had butted heads with Captain Ingles more than once during her court-martial. Fortunately, it appeared that he acknowledged the fact that Harm had simply been doing his job back then.

"I guess," he replied noncommittally, not even bothering to glance back at her. "But maybe Paddles was right. Maybe I wasn't paying attention as closely as I should have been on the first landing attempt." He knew that he could probably excuse his botched first attempt as a mistake anyone could have made. Even the best pilot in the world couldn't land perfectly every time. But he couldn't get past the fact that he had way too much on his mind, things that may have distracted him, slowing his reaction time.

He wondered what she was doing right at this moment. Glancing at his watch, he figured that her wedding rehearsal was just getting ready to start, assuming that she hadn't made the decision yet whether or not to call the entire thing off. He doubted that. If she'd done so, wouldn't she contact him to let him know whether or not she'd made her decision in his favor? Would she really leave him hanging like that after everything? But now, nearly thirty-six hours after he'd left her at the airfield in Norfolk, he hadn't heard a word from her. He'd thought about calling her, more times than he cared to count, but he didn't want it to appear as if he was pressuring her for a decision. He knew that he should start preparing himself for the probability that she'd decided to go through with the wedding after all, but he wasn't ready to do so. At this point, he was wishing that he hadn't made that damn promise to return in time to attend the wedding. He wasn't sure anymore if he could make himself live with the torture of watching her pledge herself to another man. It would probably be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do, probably topped only by saying goodbye to his father, but he'd promised.

Skates joined him at the railing, noting that his gaze didn't seem to be focused on anything in particular, but seemed distant, lost. Was he really that bothered by the first attempt, she wondered, when he'd pulled up for another go around just as he'd touched the deck, having been waved off by Paddles? In her opinion, a lesser pilot might not have been able to pull up in time, with possibly disastrous results. But Harm had been able to lift off again and come around for another attempt. Surely, he had to be aware of the skill that had taken.

Everyone knew Paddles had been giving Harm a hard time just because he was no longer an active pilot. But he'd nailed the next four attempts and even Captain Ingles was reported to have been impressed with the textbook-perfect landings. She'd overheard the ship's navigation officer, who had been standing near the Captain on the bridge as Harm had made his last four landings, telling Captain Pike about Ingles' reaction on her way to the officers' mess to grab a bite to eat after their final landing. Despite the way Harm had gone after Ingles during her court-martial, a good number of people on the _Patrick Henry_ remembered further back than that, to Harm's days as an active pilot aboard the ship, remembered the way he'd pushed Tuna's Tomcat out of Kosovar air space so that the latter could safely eject over the water. There had been a lot of people rooting for him out there today.

"It could have happened to anyone," she tried to assure him. "Even Paddles would have to admit that now after those last four landings." Glancing at him again, she sensed that he wasn't in the mood to talk about the quals, so she changed the subject. "So when are you planning to head back to Washington?"

"In a few hours," he replied. "I'm going to ferry a Tomcat to Norfolk then drive on to Washington tonight from there. I've got to be back in Washington tomorrow morning for …. a wedding."

"Oh, really?" Skates said, not noticing the hesitation in his voice. The topic of weddings was of particular interest to her as she was deep into planning her own, scheduled for the end of June. "Who's getting married?"

"My best friend," he forced himself to reply. "Um, Mac's getting married."

"I didn't know Colonel Mackenzie was getting married," she said. Despite the fact that it had been Mac who had prosecuted her, Skates didn't hold it against the other woman, who had so graciously congratulated her after her verdict. "Tell her I said congratulations."

After a moment, he said dully, "I'll do that. So I guess it is back onto the LSO platform for you after this?"

"Actually, I was going to head for Washington myself tomorrow for a few days leave, leaving on the morning cod," she said, her voice betraying her excitement. "But if you don't mind the company, I'd be happy to fly back with you. My guy and I are going to work on our own wedding plans."

Harm turned and looked at her, attempting to appear happy for her. But weddings were too painful a subject right now and a neutral expression was the best he could manage. "I didn't know you were getting married," he said. "Is this the same guy you were seeing two years ago, the one who worked in SecNav's office?"

She nodded. "Except that he's now heading the public affairs office at Washington Naval Yard," she told him. "He was actually happy to get the chance to slow down. Working for the SecNav doesn't exactly leave a lot of time to plan a wedding, especially since he's been stuck doing most of it while I've been out here. About the only significant contribution I've made other than agreeing with the arrangements he's made has been to purchase our wedding rings while the ship was docked for liberty two months ago in Spain." She laughed, remembering the conversation she'd had with her fiancé the day she'd first seen the rings at a bazaar, joking that maybe there was something she could contribute to the wedding aside from her presence.

"Anyway," she continue, "I think he mailed out invitations this past week, so you can probably look to have yours when you get back home."

"I look forward to it," he said, not quite lying. Maybe it would be a relief to attend a wedding that he didn't have a major personal stake in, where his only participation would be as a casual observer. He turned away from her to look back towards the horizon. In his mind, he could see Mac walking slowly down the aisle at the rehearsal, her arm hooked around the Admiral's. She would look beautiful, even if it was just the rehearsal and she wasn't wearing her wedding dress. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the image, but he could see her coming to a stop in front of the altar, smiling brightly at the man waiting for her. He imagined the Admiral releasing her arm and leaning forward to whisper, "Take good care of her, Commander."

Wait a minute. He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why would the Admiral be calling Brumby 'Commander'? He'd been a civilian for a year now. He couldn't recall the last time he'd heard anyone refer to the Australian by his rank. In fact, the first few months he'd been back in the US, he'd told more than one person that he didn't need to be called 'Commander' or 'Sir' anymore. As far as he knew from Bud – not that he really cared, he told himself - the man was even planning on wearing a regular tuxedo to the wedding, not his uniform. Shaking his head again, he became aware of Skates calling his name.

"Hammer, you okay?" he became aware of her asking.

"It's nothing," he lied. That was easier than he thought it would be, pretending that everything was just fine. Maybe someday it would be second nature.

"Are you sure?" she continued.

"Positive," he replied, his voice so quiet that she barely heard him. "There's nothing I can do about it anyway, so I may as well put what I was thinking out of my mind."

Skates opened her mouth to say more, but closed it again when she saw the look on his face, the one that said he definitely did not want to talk about whatever was bothering him, the same one that said that whatever it was, it was bringing the weight of the world down upon his shoulders. Maybe it was a good time to remember that he was not just a friend, but also a superior officer, and back off. "Sir, about that ride …." she began, changing subjects.

"Oh, right," he said after a moment, as if he had to try to remember what she was talking about. "It would be a pleasure to fly back to Norfolk with you. I've got my car at the base, so I can even give you a ride to Washington if you'd like."

'Thank you, Hammer," she said. "I'd appreciate that." She turned to leave, but stopped herself. "I hope that whatever it is, it ends up working out for you." When he didn't acknowledge the statement after a moment, she left him alone on the deck.

Only after he heard the door close behind her did he whisper in response, "I think we may have gone beyond that point already." He didn't want to think about it, but knew he had to. Maybe he'd been wrong, maybe their night together hadn't meant as much to her as it had to him. Maybe it wasn't anything different than what she was used to experiencing nearly every night with Brumby. He didn't want to think about that, about her trembling under the other man's touch, about her breathy voice pleading for more from someone else. He wanted to close his eyes and pretend that she'd reacted to him as she'd reacted to no other man before. There was a part of him that wished he could have felt sorry about wanting another man's woman so that their night together might have never happened. Then he wouldn't know what he would be missing, what she would be giving to Brumby for the rest of their lives.

-----

SAME TIME  
CATHEDRAL OF ST. MATTHEW THE APOSTLE   
WASHINGTON DC

Mac stood at the back of the church, her eyes darting nervously around the sanctuary, standing slightly away from Harriet, Chloe and the Admiral, waiting for the rehearsal to start. Mic was up front, talking to the head chaplain from Washington Naval Yard, who was officiating at the ceremony with special permission from the cathedral.

How had she let Mic talk her into holding their wedding at the cathedral of the Archdiocese of Washington? At least she'd been able to talk him into using one of the side chapels, rather than the cavernous main sanctuary, protesting that all their guests would barely fill the first two rows of pews in there. It had been a compromise, just one of many made during the course of planning this wedding, yet she felt somehow that he'd gotten the better end of the deal in most of them. At the time, she'd convinced herself that it was only fair, since she'd ended up dumping many of the preparations into his lap as she'd frequently been tied up with work. Now, there was a part of her that wondered what the wedding would have ended up being like were she marrying Harm.

She imagined that he would like to be married at the Naval Academy chapel. Not because it was the so-called Cathedral of the Navy and he would want to make some kind of statement by marrying amidst such splendor, but because his parents had been married there, nearly forty years ago just after Harm, Sr. had graduated. It would be because of family history, not because he wanted to have the perfect wedding to match his perfect wife.

She didn't feel very perfect. In fact, she didn't feel she deserved to be married in the premiere Catholic church in the District and that wasn't only because of what had happened with Harm. Although her first marriage had been performed by a justice of the peace while she'd been dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, she felt she'd made too many mistakes in the interim to deserve a huge, splashy second wedding with all the trimmings. She'd wanted small and simple. But Mic, whose first choice would have been to return to Australia to be married in his local church, which he'd made sound like a cross between Westminster Abbey and Notre Dame, had wanted something large and very formal. In fact, the wedding mass – rather than just a ceremony – had also been his idea.

Although Mac wouldn't exactly call herself a good Catholic – she could barely remember the last time she'd attended church regularly before Mic had insisted that they start going during pre-Cana, as if he'd wanted to make a good impression on the church about their devoutness – there just seemed to be something bothersome about all this. She needed to go to Confession, but what was she supposed to say? 'Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I'm not really sorry about it, but I cheated on my fiancée three days ago.' If that was the case, maybe she'd get lucky and the priest would insist the ceremony be called off. She imagined the part in the ceremony where the priest would ask if anyone had any objections, then speaking up himself. Sure, that would probably violate the sanctity of the confessional, but at least the idea was good for a half-hearted laugh. Surely there had to be some kind of church law about committing adultery before the marriage even started. Then she wouldn't have to make the decision she'd promised Harm that she'd think about, the decision that she wasn't sure she had the strength to make.

"Mac?" Harriet asked from a few feet away, where she'd been engaged in conversation with Chloe. She'd noticed that Mac seemed to be distancing herself from everyone else. She'd thought to chalk it up to pre-wedding jitters, but there was something …. she couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she suspected that this was more than that. She almost looked as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Mac turned to them, startled. She'd almost forgotten that she wasn't alone. "Yes, Harriet?" she asked. "Are they about ready to start?"

Harriet looked up towards the front of the church, where Mic was still deep in conference with the priest. "Doesn't look like it," she replied, shaking her head. "I just wanted to see how you're doing."

"Fine," she lied. Chloe opened her mouth to contradict that statement, but Mac shot her a warning glance, daring her to say anything. Rolling her eyes, Chloe shut her mouth, but returned the look with one of her own, promising silently to say something later. "It's just …."

"Tomorrow's the big day," Harriet finished for her. She remembered the days leading up to her own wedding. She supposed that even Mac, who always seemed so composed and sure, could experience stronger than usual nervousness. Then again, what was considered normal before a wedding? But Mac had been a huge help when all Harriet had wanted to do was throw up and call off her own wedding, so the least Harriet could do was return the favor.

"Yeah, tomorrow's the big day," Mac echoed softly. Maybe. She just wasn't sure yet. Maybe Chloe was right in that she was in no condition to be getting married. But how could she explain that to Mic at this late date, even if her decision was just to postpone things? After all the planning, all the energy he'd thrown into this, what was she supposed to say that she couldn't have said months ago?

She fell silent and Harriet was at a loss as to what else to say. They needed something to lighten the mood. At her own wedding rehearsal, Bud had been even more nervous than she'd been, until Harm had started cracking jokes and relating stories of some of their more colorful adventures, keeping it up until all of them couldn't help but laugh, releasing a lot of the tension in the church. Too bad he wasn't here now. Surely he could put a smile on his best friend's face, she thought. Maybe it was time to talk about something other than the wedding. "I wonder how the Commander's doing on his quals," she mused.

Mac caught Chloe's smile at the change in topic, but she refrained insisting that they talk about something else. She was afraid that Harriet would begin to suspect that something was up if she refused to talk about him. "He's probably about finished," she replied, twisting her engagement ring on her finger. The band was rubbing her finger as she clenched and unclenched her fingers and it was mildly irritating her skin. It never really had done that before. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or a psychosomatic symptom of the choice she was facing. It was just another thing of which she wasn't sure. "He promised he would be back in time for the wedding, so he's probably going to fly back home tonight."

"Of course he'll be back," Harriet assured her, wondering if part of Mac's mood stemmed from concern that her best friend might not make it back in time for her wedding. "He wouldn't miss your wedding."

"No, he wouldn't," Chloe said strongly. "Harm's a man of his word."

"Yes, he is," Mac agreed, smiling, trying not to think too hard about why she was so pleased about the idea of him returning for the wedding. "And I'm sure he's done fine. Harm's an excellent pilot. He's probably flying circles around all those younger pilots."

Harriet and Chloe both laughed, both relieved for different reasons that Mac seemed to be relaxing a bit. Chloe was about to say something else when AJ joined them. "It looks like we're about ready to begin," he told them. "Is everyone ready?" They all nodded, Mac hesitating a split second, as they lined up, first Harriet, then Chloe, then Mac and AJ. Mac hesitated another second, then linked her arm around AJ's as Harriet started up the aisle.

"Colonel, um, Mac, it will be fine," he assured her, chalking up her hesitation to jitters, just as Harriet had.

Mac didn't answer him because she knew that things were far from fine and she wasn't sure if they ever would be and she knew she couldn't explain that to anyone. She owed so much to Mic. He'd given up so much for her. What would he do if she were to call it off at this late date, how would he handle it? He loved her so much. That had to be worth something, even if ….

She shook her head. This was the rehearsal for her wedding. She needed to concentrate on the moment at hand. She noted that Harriet had reached the altar, smiling at her husband across from her. The gesture warmed Mac's heart. They loved each other so much, had been through so much together and they were still going strong. Would that be her and Mic someday? Could that be them? Could it be her and Harm? She shook her head again, telling herself that she wasn't going to think about that now, not while the rehearsal was going on. Right now, she needed to think about the man waiting for her at the other end of the long aisle.

As Harriet reached the altar, Chloe reached the halfway mark of her walk and then Mac and AJ started. She stared straight ahead, trying to focus on the man waiting for her. Mic smiled proudly back at her, imagining the image she would project in her wedding dress the next morning. Finally, she was going to become his wife. Everything he wanted was finally within his grasp.

A bright, shiny object caught Mac's eye where they should have been nothing and she squinted, trying to figure out what it was she was seeing. The object was so bright and so familiar, shiny gold on a background of white. No, it couldn't …. she blinked, trying to dispel the image, but it persisted and when she glance up, she saw his smile, not quite as cocky and devil-may-care as usual, but softer, as if he was beholding the most beautiful sight. She blinked again and it was suddenly Mic standing before the altar again, simply dressed in a dark suit and tie. The closest thing to dress whites at the altar was the summer white uniforms the chaplain and Bud wore. And there were no gold wings to be found, not here.

She rubbed her eyes, drawing AJ's attention. "Colonel, are you okay?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," she replied, lowering her hand. "I must have just gotten something in my eyes." That was almost easy, she mused, lying to AJ. She'd barely had to think about that one. She just couldn't decide if that was good or bad. Maybe the lies were becoming easier. Maybe someday she'd be able to utter them without even thinking about them at all.

As they reached the altar, Mic held out his hand and AJ placed her hand in his. Mic clasped his fingers around hers as AJ stepped back, but Mac didn't feel it. She felt another's palm pressed against hers, fingers entwining with hers as they …. She shivered at the thought and Mic smiled at her again.

This is Mic standing in front of you, she told herself. Harm's not here. He's on a carrier somewhere on the Atlantic Ocean or maybe already on his way back. He's not here. She took a cleansing breath and smiled at Mic, who was so happy that he didn't notice that the expression didn't reach her eyes.

-----

"Mic, we discussed this," Mac said, trying to keep her voice down, the rehearsal having come to a halt while she and Mic had a disagreement about their vows. Mic had been pushing for them to write their own vows, in addition to the standard stuff, while Mac had wanted to stick with traditional vows, even before she'd admitted that she was so conflicted about everything. She was a private, reserved person and didn't feel comfortable speaking about her feelings in front of everyone, even if it was at her own wedding. Even if Mic wasn't her groom, she was positive she'd still feel the same way. Now, with everything that was going on in her mind, she was terrified that she couldn't find the words, or that she would say the wrong words that let everyone know what she was truly feeling. Mic, on the other hand, was more inclined to want to shout his love for her from the rooftops. "I don't feel comfortable talking about stuff like that in public."

"But, Sarah," he countered, "it's our wedding. When else would we talk about such things?"

"In private, maybe," she retorted, unable to keep the slight edge out of her voice. "I'm just not good about speaking about stuff like this in front of everyone."

"You're a lawyer," he pointed out, trying to be conciliatory, putting his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort. She resisted the urge to shrug it away. "If you put your mind to it, you can do this …."

"No, Mic," she said, a bit too strongly as everyone gathered around began wishing that they were somewhere else during this escalating argument.

"Well, let's ask everyone else for their opinion, luv," Mic suggested, hoping that the input from her friends would bring her around and get her to calm down. He guessed she was entitled to her jitters. After all, hadn't he been the one who'd nearly walked out of the jewelry store without their rings earlier in the week? "What do you all think? Traditional or custom vows?"

"I think that it is Mac's wedding and she should be allowed to do what she wants," Chloe piped in immediately, ignoring the sharp look from Mac. Mic frowned slightly, but refrained from comment. His relationship with Chloe was tentative at best, so he wasn't really expecting help from that quarter. But AJ, Bud and Harriet all were, or had been, married. Surely, they would understand.

"Well, Mic," Bud said tentatively, wary of being dragged into what should have been a private argument, "when Harriet and I were getting married, I wanted her to wear her uniform. The Admiral told me basically what Chloe just said, that it was her wedding and to let her do what she wanted. That's probably not bad advice." AJ nodded his agreement, but otherwise didn't comment.

Harriet watched Mac carefully for a moment, more worried than ever. Sure, it probably wasn't unusual for couples to argue in the tense days and hours leading up to a wedding. Hell, she'd been ready to give Bud the boot because he'd gotten punched out by a pregnant stripper and thrown in jail the night before their wedding – or so she'd claimed. But she had the strong sense that this was more. Still, she'd do whatever she could to smooth the waters. "If the Colonel isn't comfortable talking about such things in public, there's nothing wrong with that. Some people aren't. And the last thing that I'm sure we all want is for this wedding to be anything less than perfect."

Harriet's gentle tone got through to Mic, who finally nodded and said, "Alright then. If it's what you really want, then we'll just go with the traditional vows."

"Thank you," Mac whispered, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief. She'd been on the verge of snapping Mic's head off, she realized, and she wasn't sure if, in the heat of the moment, she could have stopped herself from saying something in front of everyone that would have revealed feelings that she wasn't entirely sure of herself.

As the priest motioned everyone back into their places so they could continue with the rehearsal. Chloe noticed Harriet watching Mac with concern. Maybe there was someone else who realized that Mac's heart wasn't as into this as it should be. She resolved to make time to talk to Harriet, see if maybe there was someone else who would talk to Mac whom she might actually listen to.

-----

OLIVIA AND JULIET'S RESTAURANT  
AN HOUR LATER

"Harriet, can I talk to you for a few minutes?" Chloe asked as they entered the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner was to be held.

Harriet nodded, and then turned to her husband. "Go on in, Bud," she told him. "I'll be there in a few minutes." She kissed him on the cheek and patted his shoulder before he walked into the private dining room that had been reserved for the dinner. Chloe noted the loving gestures, realizing that she hadn't seen Mac act like that towards Mic in the few days she'd been in town. She was still young enough and optimistic enough to believe that love should be like a fairy tale, with the couple in question living happily ever after. Bud and Harriet seemed to have that. What shouldn't Mac?

Now that she had Harriet's undivided attention, she wasn't sure where to start. She knew Harriet was a friend of both Harm and Mac, but she wasn't sure how much Harriet knew about the relationship between them. As Mac had pointed out at the rehearsal, she was a very private person and she knew from Mac that Harm was as well. "Well, Harriet, I'm worried …. who is that?" Chloe pointed towards door, which Renee had just walked through.

Harriet gently pushed Chloe's arm down. "That's Renee Peterson, Commander Rabb's girlfriend," she informed her. Chloe's eyes widened.

"That's the 'Video Princess?" she blurted out. Fortunately, Renee wasn't close enough yet to overhear. "And I thought the shrink was bad."

"She's really a very nice woman," Harriet assured her, wondering where Chloe had come up with that nickname for someone she'd never met. "And so was Jordan." Renee caught sight of them and Harriet motioned her over.

"Hello, Renee," she greeted the other woman. Harriet was a bit surprised that she was even present, figuring that she would stay away since Harm wasn't going to be there. Renee and Mac were friendly towards each other when they ran into each other, but no one would really call them friends.

"Hello, Harriet," she returned with a broad smile. "I'm not late, am I?"

"No, we're still waiting for the rest of the JAG staff, the ones who weren't at the rehearsal," Harriet explained. "I think I saw Lieutenant Singer in there, but we're still expecting Gunny, Tiner and the Mattonis."

"Oh, good," Renee replied. "And who is this?"

"Renee, this is the Colonel's little sister Chloe," she introduced them. "Chloe, this is Renee Peterson."

"Hello," Chloe said, looking Renee up and down, almost immediately dismissing her as too made up. She nearly smiled, wondering what she was hiding under all that makeup. If this was the kind of woman Harm was spending his time with, then maybe Mac wasn't the only one who needed a good talking to. Then again, what was he supposed to do when the woman he loved was wearing another man's ring?

"Hello," Renee said, then stopped with a puzzled look on her face. "I didn't realize Mac even had a sister."

"Well, I'm not really," Chloe said. "It's …."

"Hello, Renee," Mac said from behind Chloe, having walked out of the dining room when she'd heard their voices. "It is …. good of you to come."

"I'm happy to be here," Renee replied, almost sounding to Chloe as if she meant it. She looked from one woman to the other, trying to figure them out. Why would Harm's girlfriend come without him? From what she'd heard from Mac, she knew the two weren't friends. "It's not much longer now, is it?"

"Sixteen hours and twenty-seven minutes," Mac replied automatically, although she wasn't counting the hours and minutes for the same reasons that most brides would be. That was simply how much time remained – for what, she wasn't quite sure. Once again, time was proving to be her enemy.

"Twenty-five minutes, actually," Renee said, while the wheels began turning in Chloe's mind. Mac knowing the exact time until the ceremony wasn't unusual, even under the difficult circumstances. But Renee not only knowing the time, but correcting Mac on it? Chloe wondered if maybe Renee wasn't looking forward to this wedding a little too much. Just how serious was the relationship between her and Harm – or rather, how serious did she perceive it to be? She began to worry that this situation might be worse than she'd originally thought.

"Oh," Mac said nervously, remembering what she'd told Harm the night of the engagement party, about how Renee wouldn't easily give him up. This was pretty strong evidence in favor of that. Renee clearly saw her as a threat to her relationship with Harm. Why else would she care so much about exactly how much time remained until Mac would be a married woman?

If she chose Mic, who would be hurt? Harm would, but at least he would have Renee, and she would be hurt herself, until she could learn to accept that her future lay with Mic. But if she went with Harm, what would happen? Well, Mic and Renee would definitely be hurt, with no one really there to help them pick up the pieces. And there were no guarantees that she and Harm would work, so they could easily end up hurting themselves in the process. Or worse, they could end up hurting each other, as they'd so many times in the past.

Chloe wasn't the only one watching Mac and Renee with interest. Harriet also sensed the undercurrents between the two women and wondered about it. She knew they weren't friends, but Renee seemed so eager about this wedding, even more so than the bride. Harriet nibbled on her lower lip as an idea took root in her mind. Surely ….? She shook her head, but couldn't dispel the notion as memories replayed in her mind of five years of friendship and maybe more between two of her closest friends. Harm's Article 32 hearing, his support of Mac when she was stalked, some incident in Norfolk that Bud had only hinted about in the vaguest possible terms, Russia, the way they'd saved each other on that submarine.

Bud had even told her about Harm and Mac's little adventure in the Appalachian Mountains, which had happened just before Harriet had transferred from the Sea Hawk to a shore assignment. She could almost believe that there might have been something more between them at one time, but then Harm had left for six months and their friendship seemed to have cooled by the time he'd returned and it had been a long time before they even came close to what they'd once shared.

Then she remembered some of the hints Bud had dropped about what had happened in Australia, as well as Mic's and Renee's reactions when they'd go away on cases together. Hadn't she and Gunny had to do some fast talking when they'd been on submarines in the Barents Sea and they hadn't even been on the same boat? And Renee, hadn't she commented during their girls' night that she was praying that Mic didn't get hit by a bus? She'd initially dismissed it as a drunken ramble – they both had been a bit beyond tipsy by that point – but she wondered now if there wasn't more to it. Was Renee counting the hours and minutes until Mac was married because she saw the other woman as competition for Harm's affection?

As the four of them started to walk into the dining room, Chloe fell back so that she was walking beside Harriet. "You see it, too, don't you?" she whispered, drawing a startled glance from Harriet. "I see it in your eyes. You have your doubts about what Mac is planning to do."

-----

"Before we head out for the real fun," Bud joked, bringing laughs from nearly everyone gathered as they were all pulling on their coats before taking off, the men for a bar for some last minute revelry and the women for quiet evenings at home, Mac having decided weeks earlier that a bachelorette party wasn't her thing, "we all need to remember not to get arrested this time. I don't think my wife would appreciate my having to be bailed out of jail again the morning of a wedding." Even Mac managed a smile at that, remembering Harm's call in the wee hours of the morning to bail them all out of jail, the cute look on his face as he and Bud had tried to explain what had happened.

"Too bad I can't just forget all this and spend the time having fun with my future wife," Mic joked.

"Not likely," was the response from just about everyone, in reference to that fact the bride and groom weren't supposed to see each other before the wedding, while Mac tried to bury her initial knee-jerk reaction. Calm, Marine, she told herself. He's just joking. Mic is always joking like that. It doesn't mean anything.

Leaning towards Harriet, Mac whispered, "I'll be back in a few minutes." She took off towards the restroom before the other woman could respond. Chloe noticed and exchanged a glance with Harriet.

"We need to go after her," Chloe whispered. Harriet nodded and the two of them headed in the direction Mac had gone. As they entered the restroom, they found Mac bracing herself against one of the sinks, her knuckles bone white as her fingers gripped the porcelain. Chloe was about to motion Harriet back, thinking that Mac wouldn't appreciate being ganged up on, but changed her mind. Desperate times called for desperate action and it couldn't get much more desperate than this. "Mac, you really need to put a stop to this."

"How many times do I have to tell you," Mac said, not even looking behind her, "that it's not that simple, not anymore? Too many people are going to get hurt now."

"So you'll hurt yourself and the man you really love just to protect two people neither of you love?" Chloe asked. "Unbelievable." She shook her head, wondering what she was supposed to say now. They kept going round and round, covering the same ground. There had to be something that would break this stalemate.

Harriet put her hand on Chloe's arm and nodded towards Mac, indicating that she would try. "Ma'am, do you remember when you got back from Australia, when you first showed me the ring?" she asked. Mac turned around, brushing tears from her eyes, startled by Harriet's presence. She gave Chloe a frustrated glance.

"Mac, listen to her, please?" Chloe begged. "This can't continue, not like this."

When Mac didn't protest, Harriet continued, "You said that you didn't know how it was all going to work out at the time, with you in Washington and Mic in Australia. Do you remember what I told you?"

Mac nodded, taking a shaky breath. "You said that it helps if you're sure," she replied quietly. How many times had those words run through her head the last few days?

"You know, the Commander approached me when I left your office that day," Harriet revealed. Mac's startled gasp at the mention of Harm told Harriet that she was on the right track. Whatever doubts Mac was having, they were tied in with him. "He asked me if you were really thinking about marrying Mic."

"He did?" Mac asked with an almost hopeful tone in her voice. Then she shook her head. "Later that day, he made a comment about how wearing an engagement ring on your right hand didn't mean you were engaged. I asked him if there was anything we needed to talk about and he said no. I thought …."

"What, that he didn't care?" Harriet asked, incredulous. "Ma'am, that couldn't have been further from the truth. Correction, it can't be further from the truth. I've know both of you for nearly five years. He's your best friend …. and maybe more?"

Mac looked like she was about to say something, but stopped herself. "No, not anymore," she insisted, her voice growing angry as she hurriedly brushed away tears. "I'm not doing this anymore. I need to get out of here." Quickly, Mac walked out, leaving two frustrated people behind her.

"I guess it's too much to hope for that she means she's not going through with this farce of a wedding," Chloe sighed, Harriet agreeing with her more now than ever that this wedding should not happen.

When the two of them rejoined the rest of the group, Mac was standing next to Mic, smiling and saying something. They heard just the tail end. " …. so I'm going to head on home and try to get a good night's sleep," Mac said. "So I guess I'll see you tomorrow morning."

Mic pulled her into his arms and gave her a tender kiss, while Chloe made a gagging motion with her finger that only Harriet saw. "I love you, Sarah," Mic said as he pulled away.

"Yeah," Mac replied, her smile faltering just enough that Harriet and Chloe both caught it. "Me too." She turned to her sister. "Are you ready to go, Chloe?"

"Yes," Chloe replied, glancing at Harriet, who nodded, understanding the unspoken question. Chloe smiled and turned to follow Mac out of the restaurant.

"I'd better head home as well," Harriet said. "I don't want to leave AJ with the babysitter any longer than I have to. I guess I'll see everyone tomorrow."

Harriet gave Bud, who was going to ride with AJ, a kiss and after extracting another promise from him not to get arrested, she left as well. Outside the restaurant, she caught sight of Mac and Chloe standing next to Mac's Corvette, Mac digging through her purse, apparently looking for her keys while Chloe gestured wildly, probably making yet another point about why she thought the wedding shouldn't happen. She had to walk in that direction anyway to get to her minivan, so Harriet told herself that she wouldn't be eavesdropping, not really. She slowed her pace so that she could listen to what they were saying.

"Again, what will it hurt to at least postpone?" Chloe argued. Mac tried to ignore her, growing frustrated. Where the hell were her damn keys? Chloe grabbed the purse from Mac's hands. "I'll look for them." She rifled through the purse herself, pulling out the key ring after a few seconds. "Here they are. Just a second, there's something caught on the ring. Oh …." She ended on a gasp as she recognized the object tangled in with the keys.

"Give them to me and we'll get out of …." Her voice trailed off as she recognized the object sitting on the palm of Chloe's hand. Harriet, slowly walking towards her car, was close enough that she could make out what it was Chloe was holding. Suddenly, Mac's voice got firm and she held out her hand. "Give those to me."

Deliberately misunderstanding her, Chloe handed Mac her keys. Mac held out her hand again, but Chloe shook her head. "I think I'll hang onto these for a while," Chloe said. She turned to Harriet, who stood nearby as if frozen in place. "Can you come by Mac's place after you relieve the babysitter? I'm sure Mac would love to see her godson. And I think Mac could use another woman's perspective."

Harriet nodded. "I'll meet you there in about forty-five minutes," she said. She studied Mac intently, and then added gently, "Ma'am, I couldn't care for you more if you were family. In a way, you are – you and the Commander both – and I can't stand to see you hurt yourself like this."

After Harriet walked off, Mac turned back to her sister. "What are you doing?" she demanded.

"With my help and Harriet's, and with that photo album full of pictures of Harm," Chloe replied, smiling smugly, "we're going to take a walk down memory lane and by the time we're finished, maybe you'll have figured out – or rather admitted - for yourself just why you can't go through with this wedding."

-----

MAC'S APARTMENT

"I am so glad you're here, Harriet," Chloe exclaimed as she opened the door to Harriet, who was holding her son in her arms. She reached out and ran her hand over soft blond baby hair. "Hey, AJ."

AJ waved hello, babbling softly as Harriet carried him into the apartment. Harriet set him on the floor and he immediately toddled over to Jingo, who was laying in front of the fireplace, throwing himself against the dog, his arms going around Jingo's neck. "Doggie, doggie."

"Where is she?" Harriet asked, glancing around the apartment as she kept one eye on her son to make sure he didn't bother Jingo too much.

"She just got out of the shower a few minutes ago," she replied. "She should be out in a minute, or I think she will. We haven't exactly talked a lot since we got back here. Harriet, I don't know what to do anymore. When I got here on Wednesday, I suggested that she talk to Harm before he left for Norfolk. I wonder if that's where …. by the way, I found something else." Chloe motioned Harriet over to the closet and opened it, pulling out a hanger and displaying the contents.

"The Commander's flight jacket," Harriet said, her eyes immediately drawn to the familiar patch on the left front of the jacket. "I suppose he could have left it here sometime when they were working on a case, but …."

"He wouldn't have just left his wings over here," Chloe pointed out. "I doubt they just fell off his uniform or something. He had to have given them to her."

"Commander Rabb would never try to force his way between the Colonel and Mic," Harriet said, thinking out loud. "That's not him. Maybe the wings are his way of telling the Colonel that she has a choice."

"Harriet, I just thought of something," Chloe said excitedly. "I was here the night that Harm stopped by two years ago and told Mac that he was requesting a return to active flight status. I was in the bedroom, but I could hear what they were saying. Mac said that leaving meant that he considered flying to be more important to him than everything, only she paused when she said that last bit, as if that wasn't what she really wanted to say. I think what she wanted to say that he thought flying was more important than her."

"It makes sense," Harriet said. "I'd gone on reserve duty after AJ was born, so I wasn't around JAG all that much when the Commander had first come back, but from what Bud told me, there was a definite cooling off between them and it seemed to be coming more from the Colonel than from the Commander, as if she was unconsciously trying to punish him for leaving. Then Australia happened and it was the Commander backing off."

"Because of the ring," Chloe concluded, "because, like you said, he wouldn't consciously try to come between Mac and Mic. But now, he's given her his wings. Maybe he's saying not just that Mac has a choice, but what if he's really saying that he doesn't think that flying is more important than her. Of course, at that point, if it had been me, I would have been calling off this wedding, but …."

"He said the choice was mine," a voice said from bedroom doorway. "He said that he wasn't going to stand in the way of what I want." Chloe and Harriet looked over to see Mac leaning against the door frame, holding a piece of paper in her hand. "But you're right about the meaning of the wings. He said that they were his answer to what I'd said about flying being more important to him than everything else." She glanced down at the letter in her hands, sighed heavily, then walked over and held it out to them.

Harriet hesitated a moment before she took the letter, but she held back from immediately reading it. "Are you sure, Ma'am?" she asked gently. She imagined that whatever was in the letter wasn't really meant for public consumption. Would Mac someday regret showing this to them?

"Not really," Mac admitted, sitting down on the couch. "But you two aren't going to back off, are you? And I told Chloe earlier that there are a lot of things that she doesn't understand about what's going on. Things that even I don't understand and …. and I was there."

"There?" Chloe questioned as Harriet's eyes scanned the letter. "What's that …." She trailed off when she saw the wide-eyed, startled look on Harriet's face. She looked over her shoulder and began reading, immediately figuring out just what was in the letter which had startled Harriet so much. "Oh, my God. You know, I had asked Mac yesterday if she'd gotten a chance to talk to Harm as I'd suggest that she do before he left for Norfolk. Harriet, do you know what she told me? She said 'Not exactly'." Chloe looked at Mac, who was studying her hands, avoiding looking at the two of them. "I guess I was just asking the wrong question."

Mac said nothing as AJ toddled over to her, having gotten bored with Jingo, who just wanted to sleep. She lifted him up into her lap and remembered the thrill of watching the precious little boy come into their lives, remembered everything else that had happened that day. She could see it, the grin on his face as they'd watched Bud and Harriet ooh and aah over their son. She could hear it, the laughter in his voice as they'd rejoiced over the miracle they'd just witnessed. She glanced up as she became aware that Chloe was saying something.

"I guess you were right, Mac," she said, crossing her arms across her chest. She may have been only fourteen, but she could probably give lessons to any Marine about never surrendering her position. "There are things that I don't understand about this situation, like how you could make love with a man – and not just any man, but the man you really love – just three days before you are supposed to marry someone else and still think that this marriage is the right thing to do. That I definitely do not understand. You're not going to tell us that this was just an itch or something and now you've gotten it out of your system, are you? Because I think it's obvious from your behavior the last two days that you can't get it off your mind and I don't think it's just because you're feeling guilty. Of course, that does explain why you lied to Mic yesterday when he wanted to spend time with you. So what happens if you two get married and you can't make excuses to stay out of his bed?"

"Ma'am," Harriet began, her voice hesitant, still mindful of the fact that Mac was her superior officer, friend or not. One didn't just tell their superior how to live their life, even if she was now absolutely positive that said officer was about to make a huge mistake. "There is so much that we don't know about your relationship with Commander Rabb and with Mic, but I do know that if your heart were really into this marriage, then you wouldn't even be able to think about another man, let alone, um, sleep with him. Even when I was so mad at Bud that I wanted to call the entire thing off the morning of the wedding, I still couldn't get him off my mind. I didn't really need you to tell me how much I loved Bud and wanted to marry him. You just reminded me of what I already knew deep down." She sat down next to Mac on the couch and put her hand on her shoulder. "So what do you know deep down?"

"I don't know, Harriet," Mac whispered, resting her forehead against AJ's head. "I wish I did. I wish that there were something that would tell me for sure what the right thing to do is. Right now, I feel like I'm damned if I do, damned if I don't. Either way, people will be hurt."

Chloe pulled out the photo album from the bookcase, the one she and Mac had looked through the day before, and carried it over to the couch, setting it down on the coffee table before she settled into the arm chair. "Harriet, yesterday Mac was looking through this," she explained. "Look through it yourself and tell me what you see."

With a glance at Mac, as if asking for permission, Harriet picked up the album and silently flipped through the pages. Many of the photos she recognized, some she didn't. She did notice that nearly all of them were from the time before Harm had left for the _Patrick Henry_. The only ones in the album from after that time were ones from the two JAG Christmas parties since then and one from AJ's first birthday party last year. Only three photos, in an album full of them, were from the last two years. It was like Harm's return to flying was a dividing point in their lives – or maybe a wall between the friends they used to be and whatever they were now. "All of them have Commander Rabb in them," she said, "and they pretty much stop when he left JAG. The last one from before that is AJ's baptism. There are only three pictures that I recognize as coming from after that time, assuming that these are in chronological order."

Mac nodded. "Four after that actually," she corrected her. "I just haven't put the most recent photo in yet, from AJ's birthday party this year."

"Let me ask something," Chloe said. Mac looked at her, mildly surprised that she would ask for permission first. She tended to just speak her mind; at least she had so far. "What about Mic? Where's the album full of pictures of him?"

"Well, I haven't known Mic as long as I have Harm," Mac explained slowly, as if carefully considering her words before she said them. "And he was in Australia for all those months. I do have pictures of him …."

"Just not an album full of them," Chloe pointed out. "Has Mic seen this?" She took Mac's pointed silence as her answer. "I didn't think so. It's obvious from this album that you two have shared a lot, or at least you did before he left." She flipped to the photo from AJ's baptism, a professional portrait of Harm and Mac with their godson.

It was Mac's favorite picture in the entire album. Every time she looked at it, she remembered a promise made which might now never be kept. As the picture had been taken, as she'd looked down at the baby she'd cradled in her arms, she'd imagined that it was her child she'd been holding in her arms, hers and Harm's, the child they'd promised to create together. Sometimes, looking at the photo, she wondered if Harm might have been thinking the same thing at that moment. But so much had happened in their lives since then and it now seemed to be a painful reminder of what now might never be.

AJ leaned forward in Mac's lap and pressed his hand against the page. "Unca Harm, Aun' Mac," he proclaimed, giggling gleefully.

"You know what I see when I look at this picture?" Chloe asked. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear that these were two people in love and that is their child they're holding. Can you tell me that you've never looked at this picture and wondered what it would be like to have Harm's baby?" Once again, Mac's silence and the pained look on her face spoke volumes as far as Chloe was concerned.

"So you've thought about it," Chloe stated. "You've made love with him. I'm not going to ask you how that was, but I don't think you'd be quite so bothered by everything if the experience hadn't lived up to your expectations. So what's stopping you? It's obvious from this letter that Harm wants to be with you and if you didn't want to be with him, you wouldn't be giving all this a second thought, let alone letting it all consume you. So why can't you just stand up and tell Mic that you can't marry him because you're in love with someone else? Or don't even tell him that. Just be honest and admit that you don't love him the way a wife should."

"As I've said before, it's not …." Mac began before being interrupted by Chloe.

"That simple," Chloe finished. "I know. But why? You can't even say 'I love you' to Mic. The most I've heard you say is 'Me, too' or some nonsense like that. I asked you point blank to say that you love him and you nearly choked on the words. So how can you marry him while Harm's waiting in the wings, just waiting for you to tell him that you want to be with him?"

"Because …. because," Mac stammered, unable to think of a reply. How could she answer a question that she didn't even have a reply to, at least not a reply that she was satisfied with. "How do I even know it's going to work out with Harm? With Mic, I'm guaranteed of a home, a family someday, security. He loves me. No one can deny that, not even Harm."

"Mac, there are no guarantees," Harriet pointed out gently. "I learned that the hard way, with baby Sarah. I never would have thought that could have happened to us, but it did. Anyway, who's to say that you can't have those things with Commander Rabb? He's already told you in his own way that you're the most important thing in the world to him. He's even willing to stand by and watch you marry another man if that's what you tell him that you want. Could you say the same thing about Mic?"

"I …." she began, unable to get past the first word. "I wanted those things with Harm once, but …." Suddenly, she exploded, startling Harriet, Chloe and even AJ with the ferocity of her response. "He left! Don't you get it? He left me! I couldn't make him stay! Mic talked about leaving but he stayed because of me. Harm couldn't do the same thing …." She handed AJ to his mother, then got up and went to stand by the window, watching the rain that was beginning to fall. She felt the tears brimming in her eyes, but refused to give free reign to them. She refused to shed any more tears over Harmon Rabb.

"So what, is this supposed to be some kind of punishment?" Chloe asked incredulously. Finally, she thought, they were seeing the truth revealed. "He may have left, but he came back! He gave you his wings, and I don't know what else he could have done that would have made more of a statement than that. And you're going to force him to sit by and watch you marry another man? Are you trying to hurt him as much as he hurt you by leaving? And what did you mean by saying that Mic talked about leaving but you got him to stay?" She held her breath, almost afraid to hear the answer she was nearly positive was coming.

Mac looked back at them, startled, unable to believe that she'd said that. She looked down at the ring on her finger and said haltingly, "When Sergei went MIA, Harm was talking about resigning his commission to go look for him. He was going to leave again. I went over to Mic's and he was putting on his uniform. He'd called his former CO about reinstating his commission. He said there was nothing keeping him here because he'd lost his job and I still hadn't made a decision about his proposal and …."

"That's around the time you moved the ring over to your left hand," Harriet realized, a horrible understanding dawning. "You thought Commander Rabb was going to leave and you couldn't do anything about it. Mic threatened to leave, so you stopped him by agreeing to marry him. My God, Ma'am. Even if Commander Rabb wasn't a part of this at all, how could you agree to marry a man who basically blackmailed you into a wedding that you weren't even sure you wanted? If you really wanted this marriage, you would have said 'yes' the minute after Mic popped the question, back in Sydney. It never would have taken you ten months and he wouldn't have had to force your hand like that. How much of you're moving that ring was to keep Mic from leaving and how much was in response to the fact that you thought Commander Rabb was leaving again?"

"I don't know," she whispered, staring back out the window again, remembering how she'd taken the ring right after she thought she'd been shot down by Harm. Had she really moved the ring over more because Harm was leaving and she'd been afraid of being alone? "But don't you see? Harm did leave once; he nearly left a second time. How do I know that won't happen again? I don't know if I can take that chance. His leaving was one of the hardest things I've ever had to endure. I don't think I can do that again."

"Mac, I don't know if you can afford not to take that chance," Chloe interjected, pleading. "Harriet's right. Even if you had no feelings for Harm whatsoever beyond that of friends, you're marrying Mic for all the wrong reasons and how do you know that you two won't end up making each other miserable as a result? Add into the mix how much you love Harm and you'll make yourself and Harm miserable if you go through with this obviously, but you'll also make Mic miserable and probably whoever Harm's with as well, whether it's the Video Princess or someone else."

"Mic has given up so much for me," Mac pointed out, trying to convince herself as well as them. "I can't just walk away from that."

"Ma'am, with all due respect," Harriet said, "you can't live your life based on what you think you owe Mic. You didn't ask him to move halfway around the world for you. You didn't ask him to reserve his commission. He made those choices on his own and he can't expect recompense from you for that. If you can't give him what he wants, then it's up to him to live with the consequences of his choices. Commander Rabb was right, when he agreed to back off and let you make your decision. He can't make it for you, any more than Mic should have been able to make your decision regarding his marriage proposal and that's what he did for all intents and purposes. You need to make the decision for yourself and not based on what you think you owe Mic or even what Commander Rabb wants from you. There's only one person you need to consider when making your decision. You need to make your decision based on what you owe yourself. And above all else, you owe it to yourself to be happy."

"I …." Mac began, what she was about to say interrupted by the ringing of the phone. She hesitated, not sure if she had the strength for any more conversation, then walked over to the desk and glanced at the caller ID. It was of no help, stating 'Out Of Area'. With a heavy sigh, she picked up the phone. Maybe it was just her uncle, calling to wish her luck. "Hello?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. "Hello?" she repeated. "Is anyone there?" She thought she heard something in the background, but couldn't quite distinguish the sounds, not enough to identify the caller or where the call was coming from. "Hello?"

"Mac," the person on the other end of the line finally said with a barely detectable sadness evident in the voice. Mac exhaled a shaky breath as she recognized the voice. "It's me. I just wanted to let you know that I'm taking off within the hour. I will be back in time for the wedding."

"Speaking of the wedding, Harm," she said slowly after taking a deep breath, feeling Chloe's and Harriet's eyes on her as soon as she said his name, "I have something to tell you."

-----

Continued in Drifting On A Lonely Sea Chapter II – If Tomorrow Never Comes


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